Spellthief
by Lady Ylla
Summary: The day magic left the world Neville Longbottom fell in love twice. First with the spellthief who drove him insane for years. And second with the little wolf who would become his daughter. Crime, torture, true love, and a slow burn to smut. PART I now completed!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** My new Pansy/Neville is dark, depressing, and extremely violent. Ultra XXX extreme kind of violence. This is your warning: vivid details on rape, violence, and physical child abuse. Please continue with care. I will put warnings every chapter. This chapter is mild, but this fic won't stay that way. Heard?

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 **Part One**

 **Chapter One**

(Where Pansy does some illegal stuff and Neville growls a lot)

His hand felt brittle against her palm, his skin sagging and dry, his bones old and fragile. Weak. Pathetic. Sometimes, she hated herself for the awful thoughts she had in her head. Never would she let on that little, secret truth, but truth it was. This man had taken the squandered family wealth his father had blown through in his short lifetime and built a staggeringly successful company. He survived Pox, debt and war, and the marriage to an ungrateful woman. He provided for his family and overcame a lifetime of hardship.

He should've been stronger than this. Stronger than the thin, motionless hand she held in her own.

"Papa," she spoke softly, the word falling from her mouth even and unaffected by the thudding of her heart. "Can I do anything for you?"

"I'm fine enough for now, my little spitfire," he coughed out, his voice haggard and thin and nothing like the brassy bell it used to be. He used to sing to her when she really was a 'little' spitfire, he used to use those once strong hands to toss her in the air and catch her safely.

"How about I open the window? Get some fresh air in here. Some light?"

He attempted to squeeze her fingers, managed to tug on her fingers. She stilled and held fast, hating how she wished he had died in the war instead. He wouldn't have grown so old if he had died in battle instead, wouldn't have seen the world fill with wolves.

His eyes fluttered closed and he seemed to fall asleep. She listened closely for the sounds of his breathing, her heart prepared to break. Though, weak as it was, his grip held tight to her fingers and she remained still and quiet as her father rested in his bed. The fireplace was lit though the weather was nice, and it provided a soft background noise to focus on, to get lost in. "Tell me about your training," he said a bit later.

She forced a steady breath through her mouth. "Antonio is whipping my behind, Papa. But that's a good thing."

"Yes. I don't want you hurt again. You'll teach your sister won't you?"

"I've already begun," she admitted.

A small, painful sounding chuckle came from his chest, the blankets lifting slightly as his dull eyes blinked open and sought her out. "I should have known better. I should have had you training at that age. But that's the regret of an old man."

She squeezed his fingers again even as the memory of moldy carpet and a burning magic filled her nose. "I don't blame you. Not for anything."

"She's young, but it's for the best. Hard times are ahead for her. For you both, I fear."

"We will be fine, Papa. Don't you worry."

"I'm your father, it's my right to worry about my girls."

"You know I would do anything to protect her," she said, because Posy was the one chink in her armor, the one person she truly loved even though so many years separated them.

"Promise me you'll protect your mother too."

Finally, her eyes watered as they'd threatened to do for the last several hours. Not at her grief, great as it was.

But because of the simmering rage that had become a second skin to her ever since she left Spain. "What right to my protection does Pearl have?"

"Promise me. She's your mother, Pansy. Promise me you'll protect her."

She met the fading eyes of her dying father and did the one thing she was best at. She lied.

"I promise, Papa."

oOo

Present Day

"Can I ask how you even got into this business in the first place, Parkinson?" Daphne Greengrass asked, her voice a pristine chime that Pansy found sickeningly sweet.

"Oh Greengrass, you know just as well as I how I got into this dirty business." Pansy said snidely, eyeing Daphne's perfectly manicured fingernails and the pearls at her neck. She had forgotten how high maintenance her old schoolmate truly was.

"Still… I'd love to hear your side of the story. Your friends miss you here in Britain."

Pansy smirked, not missing the way she said 'Your friends'. Daphne didn't consider herself part of that group, which was just fine with Pansy seeing as the two faced bint was worse as a friend than an enemy any day of the week, any week of the month. Yada yada.

"I'm sure they do." she said easily. "But I don't miss them. Or Britain for that matter. You know what Southern France has? Sunshine."

Daphne laughed the political laugh of a Pure-blooded socialite wife, turned business owner, turned wealthy entrepreneur. "Please tell me more of your travels these last years. We've hardly spoken in that time since you left."

And for good reason too. Pansy couldn't stand this Greengrass sibling, and she wondered how on Earth Draco had managed to put up with seeing her constantly. Her actions always belied a hidden motive. Every word dripped with a sweet poison. It was tragic when Daphne's first husband had passed, a horrific accident no one could prevent. And her second husband had very publicly committed suicide. But when her third husband had ended up poisoned to death, Pansy wasn't surprised in the least when people began to question why a witch as young as Daphne was a widow three times over.

A wealthy widow.

Pansy smiled and pulled out her favorite dagger. "I got this in Spain." Travels was Daphne's word for 'jobs'. Illegal jobs that Pansy took for the money, and sometimes the thrill. The wicked curve gleamed under the light of Daphne's massive office, Pansy expertly playing the blade through her fingers with a quickness that had taken years to hone. The hilt spun in the air before Pansy gripped the metal and handed to Daphne. "Careful not to touch the sharp part. It can be lethal."

A bare look of disgust crossed Daphne's clear and made up face as she gripped the leather covered hilt. "How… lovely. It feels so cold."

The dagger came to Pansy's hand willingly and she slid it home in his holster. "Enchanted."

"Ah. Why use such a barbaric - yet beautiful - weapon, when we are trained to use our wands?"

"You know there was really only one thing I was ever good at in school, Daphne. Is it really any surprise this is the career choice I made? It keeps me away from this dreadful place and away from my dreadful mother." The statement Pansy made was full of truths and lies, and she purposely made it that way.

The truth was rarely so simple, yet it couldn't be any more plain than what was said. Pansy had terrible grades at Hogwart's, bad enough that she'd hardly get hired for anything more than some brainless, paper pushing, menial job that would drive her crazier than she already was. She figured that was her punishment for siding with the bad guys when she was younger. Umbridge certainly didn't get her any good marks on her OWLs. And she never opted to go back to school for 7th year either.

"I suppose not." Daphne said sharply. She was used to her mindless peons, sheep who did exactly what they were told. But Pansy wasn't a sheep. She was a ghost.

"France is my favorite but Italy had the best jobs." Pansy said dangerously, purposely reminding Daphne of the very career they were discussing. The Royal Family of Italy had paid Pansy's way through her early 20s, until they turned on her. Their loss. If there was anything she wanted Daphne to take from this meeting, it was that Pansy wasn't to be messed with. She had faced the Italians and won, twice. Then she had successfully escaped China, though admittedly, she could have done so with a little less noise. She was no longer the bony, spoiled rotten child from their youth. Sure plenty of traits had carried over into her adult life, but Pansy had stomped out the rest with years of hard training and discipline. She was seasoned, she was experienced. And damn did she look good in leather. Not much could withstand the swift and cold fury of her favorite dagger.

She was very dangerous, most people just didn't realize it at first glance. Anyone she had known from her childhood saw what they wanted to see: the bratty bitch she had been in school. Small and lightweight. But she could pack a punch and she lightning fast. Very few saw what she really was, and thus underestimated her nine times out of ten. But she couldn't afford for Daphne to do the same.

She continued. "Of course my track record isn't perfect, I had an incident in China-" She admitted only because of the very public nature that "incident" had taken. "But who can predict an Earthquake? Even the best Spellthief couldn't do that."

That was true enough. The pure chance of it was almost hysterical. Her bounty had been well hidden, taken weeks of planning, and yet foiled all because of a 6.3 Magnitude earthquake knocked around some water pipes and literally flooded her out. And it certainly wasn't her fault the damn diamond fell down the drain. The biggest diamond in Wizarding history. That she stole from the Italians…. Twice.

"True." Daphne said, leaning forward causally. She had one of those black squares on her desk that held fine white sand, a little zen garden with vivid black stones. She ran a small ornamental rake through the sand, carving wavy lines. "Theo recommended you for the job and I was happy to hear a familiar name." Translation: the job is illegal and I don't like getting my hands dirty - unless it was killing off rich husbands.

"No one knows what the plant does. It's magical no doubt but why? No one knows and I want it. It could provide massive profits."

"Retrieval? You want me for retrieval?"

Daphne's eyes flashed in vicious need for the briefest of seconds. "Yes."

oOo

First order of business was staking out the place.

She hated this country almost as much as her mother and she had no plans of wasting time. Pearl was playing dirty, so Pansy knew she had to play it straight. She could be patient when she wanted to, even though she really wanted to go in swinging and simply take what she wanted… Pearl wouldn't dare say no to a bag of gold, as immoral and wretched the plan was it was all perfectly legal thanks to the idiots at the Ministry. It would work.

But first she had to get that bag of gold.

She dressed down, black jeans, a plum purple blouse underneath a cream colored leather jacket. She pushed her feet into her boots, strapping them up with quick, familiar fingers. But then came the harder choice. She slipped her wand into her hand, looking at the curved Willow with disdain. She hated it, honestly. And she hated when she had to use it. She much preferred the enchanted dagger at her side hip, her ward picks in her cuffs, or the potions she had locked into her sash. She was leaving the sash at home today, but the last thing she wanted was for anyone else to realize she was back in England.

The first time she had come home after being away, a year of training under her belt and her arrogance level sky high, she took whatever jobs she cared for and left behind many enemies, then she'd buried her father and something inside her had changed. Stealth hadn't been her forte… yet. Now she knew how to pick jobs, and she was much better at them too.

But she still hated using her wand.

It was nothing against the beautifully curved, glossy Willow that she'd had since she first received it at age 11. She loved that bend in her wand, it reminded her of her dagger the way it gently curved to the side. No, her problem wasn't the wand. It was who she was when she used it. It was the power that coursed through her veins. It was that power she didn't like. She couldn't control it, and if there was one thing Pansy absolutely hated, it was not being in control.

Years of discipline and training sat under her belt now, but still she yearned for control over her life. She fought daily for it and she would continue to do so for as long as she lived. She knew exactly the kind of person she was. A bitter, bitchy witch who would never dare give away even an ounce of her hard fought independence.

People did stupid things to gain control. Pansy learned quickly it was the smart moves that mattered, if you wanted control. She couldn't handle constantly using magic, if her time at Hogwart's taught her anything. She was too emotional, too dramatic, and too susceptible to the draw. Magic played the biggest part in shaping her young life, and it hadn't been pretty.

A year after school, she been drunk at a bar in Barcelona and unbeknownst to her, vulnerable. What followed had been the worst week of her life, and if she let the nightmares get the better of her, she could still smell the disgusting aroma of moldy carpet and burnt magic that she associated with it. It had been the memory of that haunting combination of scents that drove her into her trainer's arms.

Her first smart move.

And finally she figured out to keep her wand in its holster hidden underneath her shirt, and put her dagger at her hip. Always, she went first for that dagger. If she needed her wand, it was there. It was ready for her. It would come easily and she knew how to use it. Control.

But the last time she had used her wand in battle, a man had died at her hand. He had deserved it. And sometimes she wished she'd taken her time to carve him up like a Christmas Turkey. But it was the last time she had used her wand in a fight and she knew the next time would likely play out similarly. If she pulled her wand on someone in duel, they better be prepared for a swift death.

In the end, the need to not be recognized overrode her hatred for using her wand, and she swished it up carefully and her long, black hair turned a dirty blonde color. She lightened her eyebrows, turned her indigo eyes an ordinary dark brown, and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Hardly recognizable now. She quickly braided the length of blonde into a tight braid at the back of her head and put on a mild makeup charm. Something simple, gloss on her lips and a little shadow behind the eyes. She watched her eyelashes lengthen and felt a calm, steady feeling settle in the pit of her stomach. She looked like a witch out for a walk, and not like a thief casing the place for her next job. Perfect.

She Apparated to the edge of a grassy lot, and tucked her wand into the holster that rested against her spine. She had never been here before. The Conservatory was built sometime after the Second War ended, a tall glass building full of boring plants and trees where people could go to walk around and learn facts about those boring plants and trees to their little heart's desire. It was attached to a large ballroom which would be rented out for private events, making it a prime location for people around her age.

Modern and sleek, and yet she could sense the edge of natural magic in the air.

And on the other side of the ballroom was a hallway with private storage and offices where, according to Daphne Greengrass, the Fern was being kept safely and away from the public. Pansy may have accepted the job from her old schoolmate, but she wasn't stupid enough to believe a single word out of that two-faced, lying whore's mouth. If Daphne said it was in one of the offices, it might be true. It might also be being guarded by a three headed dragon with flaming nunchucks and wouldn't Daphne find it amusing to hear Pansy had lost her life trying to steal a plant?

But the idea of Daphne hiring Pansy only to set her up made absolutely no sense. A big portion of Daphne's company was in the potion making business. It made sense that Daphne would want the newest plant on the market for research so she could get a jump on making and selling new potions from it.

The money she was paying Pansy for retrieval was nothing compared to what could be made in profits, and yet it was low enough that if the plant turned to bust she could write it off and make the money back elsewhere.

But it was the bag of gold Pansy needed for her plan to work.

According to what Pansy had picked up from her own little research into the plant, no one else had figured out what was so special about it. The public had no idea it was being kept at this modern garden, and that was a good thing for Pansy. Magical for sure, based off initial reports, but what properties it could add to potions was as yet unknown. They hadn't even given it a proper name yet. They simply referred to it as "The Fern". The picture she'd spotted in The Daily Prophet had shown a simple, small green plant with very standard fern like looking leaves. Not that she was an expert on ferns, but a fern was a fern.

With that thought in mind, she casually made her way across the well maintained lawn and stepped onto the grey sidewalk that led to the front where a group of young witches stood, chatting amicably. They saw her approaching and immediately grew louder, handing her brochures, complimenting her jacket, pointing out the lobby.

"Self defense class being held outside today!" one witch said with far too much enthusiasm. "Just follow the sidewalk around the building that way!" she pointed. "And you'll see it!"

"Thank you!" she said to them. "I think I'd just like to wander a bit alone, if I can?"

"Sure! Gift shop is opened until 4!"

"That sounds lovely, thank you." Pansy said with a mock sincerity as she brought the brochures to her face and feigned interest.

Who cared about plants? Honestly.

She leisurely made her way through the front doors and into the main room, hating the hot, muggy air and the overpowering smell of dirt and plants. People willingly came to this place, and Pansy hadn't the faintest idea why. The air was thick and heavy from the Misting Charms that covered the place at night, and according to the first brochure, the magically created atmosphere was engineered specifically in quadrants to host the many different types of plants.

Someone had put a lot of time and effort and idea into this place, she thought as she walked along the designated and well maintained paths. Pansy couldn't deny it was a magical garden, if you could get over the damn humidity.

She grudgingly admitted to herself she enjoyed the soft pink water lilies that sat by a large window that faced the front, but the real allure had been the simple latch on that window. She could easily escape through if she needed. The next path housed the sentient plants, Roses that begged to be admired, literally, and singing Tulips that recited Opera at her when she walked by. She told them to shut up and eyed the windows across the walkway. She spotted the same, simple latches on all the panes and smiled.

All the while she took note of every exit and memorized the different pathways, the brochures kept in her face like armor, and managed not to attract any unwanted attention. In her head, she mapped out different escape routes should there be an actual guard to worry about when she made the swipe. She walked by a pedestal, upon which a lush orchid grew in a large arch over the window. The sunlight streamed through and hit the creamy whites and vivid purples and reds, the soft blacks somehow delicate. The biggest orchid she'd ever seen, she had to give credit where it was due.

It was beautiful and exotic and drew her eye in a room full of beautiful things. And not unexpectedly, made her think of her father who'd given her orchids for her birthday every year. She steeled her heart and purposely walked away from the display. Burying the only parent that actually loved her had been harder than she ever imagined. Harder than the years of training she put herself through. Harder than the abuse her mother liked to dish out. Far harder than Spain had been.

But she couldn't let emotion rule her. Not now. She continued her search and found herself walking into the famous ballroom. She wondered just how many brides had first come here and sighed in admiration at the glitzed out room with its stunning chandeliers dangling from the high ceilings and glittering marble floors that sparkled under the candlelight. The late summer sun streamed into the room with dazzling rays, and made the floor literally sparkle.

Most women would have sighed and fawned over the sight.

Pansy just barely managed to avoid snorting and wondered how long it would take her to run across the room if she found herself being chased. A full on sprint? Maybe 10 seconds. She was very fast, and her boots were magically enhanced to grip whatever kind of surface she was walking on. Not even ice could bring her down. The well maintained marble flooring wouldn't give her any trouble.

No, the trouble seemed to be the two guards that stood watchfully by the door that led to the hallway she needed to get into. It was cordoned off with velvet robes and the guards both had Auror Badges pinned to their hips. With relaxed eyes and a relaxed facial expression, she met their eyes and then moved on, as if she were just another would-be bride looking to book the extravagant ballroom and not a Spellthief casing the place for a job.

She barely caught sight of down the hallway, of the other guard standing beside another door, before her feet took her out of sight and towards the floor the ceiling windows along the outer wall. She ignored the Don't Touch sign and pressed her fingers into the beaten glass and actually found some admiration for the way the plates overlapped each other in varying shades of clear to frosted. At least that was interesting to look at. Far more than the silly marble floors and floating chandeliers that must have cost a fortune and looked like every other fancy chandelier.

Then she realized one of the windows was actually a door, and she pushed through and followed the path out back. She found the self defense class about to start. Witches around her age all wearing anything from yoga pants and sports bras to sweats and baggy tee shirts that said 'Wolves Are Friends!', they stretched and organized in a shady, grassy part of the lot. She found a wooden bench flanked by two bushes a little down from the door and sat down, enjoying the shade that covered her. A sign at the edge of the property stated that this was a "Wolf Friendly Area".

She thought about those Aurors.

There was a lot of history between her and the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol department at the ministry, and even more between her and the Aurors. She'd spent a fair share of her time running away from the Aurors, and one in particular, that their presence worried her. She was guaranteed to be recognized for one, and what's more, the last time she spoke with the head of the Auror Department he'd made her promise to stay the hell out of the country. He then put her on a boat, wrongfully thinking the duplicated scrolls he had confiscated were the originals, and she sailed happily to France with her contraband scrolls in her undetectable pockets. She could just picture the look on Potter's face when the Duplication Spell finally wore off, and he realized he was the one who sent her off with the scrolls he'd been trying to save.

France had been a lot of fun that year after she got her big pay off, though it still bothered her that Potter had even managed to catch her at all. She was a thief. The first rule of robbery was don't get caught.

Since Potter assumed the scrolls were safely retrieved and in his custody, and his heart was softer than room temperature butter, he'd let her off easy. But she doubted he would be as accommodating next time... if there was a next time.

It was safe to say she couldn't let the famous Head Auror realize she was back in the country, but Pansy wasn't worried about Harry Potter as she continued to scan the grassy lot surrounding the Conservatory. He only caught her because she'd been so focused on avoiding another Auror.

The Auror she was actually really worried about… was…

 _Here_.

Her eyes landed on the physical manifestation of her very thoughts and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He managed to look taller than she remembered. His hair was cut shorter than it was 3 years ago, the last time she'd seen him, and the dark brown of his hair curled just behind his ears. His kind brown eyes swept across the field, looking over the group of women as they gathered around him excitedly.

Of course he would be the one teaching the Self Defense class.

Leaning back into the bench, Pansy drank her fill on the sight of Neville Longbottom in his loose black pants and tight white tee shirt, her eyes lingering on his wide shoulders. The first time they crossed paths after school and he'd nearly run her over in a clumsy disaster. Her hands had come to his shoulders and held tight as he accidentally slammed them down to the ground and she felt the wind knocked out of her. Not because of the fall…

No, it was because his shoulders had felt hard and strong beneath her fingers and her mind had immediately assaulted her with the made up images of her riding him while she gripped his shoulders and they both found release.

It was fucking insulting.

The moment had struck a chord in her, the image and the feeling of those shoulders permanently burned into her mind forever. It was a cumulative effect, she convinced herself sometime later. The arousal that instantly came whenever she thought of those shoulders, it simply could not have been just because of his shoulders. No matter her little efforts, she couldn't forget. So she told herself it was the added up sensation of a male body pressing into her body, his breath in her face, and his hard shoulders beneath her fingers. Surely that made more sense?

That was the turn on, she told herself. She had been hard up, she told herself.

But the next time she was intimate with a man she had found her mind wandering to that intense and vivid sensation her fingers never seemed to forget.

Only Pansy could be turned on by someone's shoulders. Tory had gone on for hours about how Draco's baby blues melted for her and only her. Or his sexy little smirk with his sexy little lips. Bleahh! As if she wanted to think of Draco in such a way.

But those were things girls swooned over on a guy. Hard packed abs and tall fellows with dreamy eyes and a sexy smile.

Not Pansy. One feel of Neville's shoulders and she was cursed to forever remember the moment. She had spent the length of two breaths digging her fingers into the muscle before she shimmied herself free and cussed him out for his clumsiness.

He'd responded by shoving his Auror's badge in her face and demanding she hand back the priceless Star Crystal Ball she'd just stolen.

 _"Catch me if you want it."_ She had said without hesitation, satisfaction a living thing in her when she realized he had actually growled at her impassioned cry. And her feet had taken her in the opposite direction from his surprised, dopey face. " _I'll catch you, Parkinson!"_ and it had been a promise.

It was their thing. He chased her, she ran from him. Their paths crossed a few more times over the years, and she always managed to get away from him. But the sight of his shoulders stretching beneath that white tee shirt had her wishing she'd been a little slower a time or two.

She'd always secretly admired his physique. Draco looked like he could grace the cover of some vampire romance novel, with his lean, pale, well defined muscles. Neville didn't have that definition, he was just strong.

Unfortunately for him, those were his only attractive qualities. Even as he lined his class up and took them through basic, beginner drills Pansy had learned many years ago, she could still see traces of the clumsy, idiot boy Neville had been. She didn't much care for his plain brown colored eyes or the way they were spaced so far apart. Or the way his lips seemed rather flat and too wide for his face. She found herself so drawn to his shoulders and yet nothing else about his appearance pleased her in any way. She told herself to stop fantasizing about his shoulders when the fantasy would never match reality.

But that was a good thing. How embarrassing would it be is she was actually attracted to Neville Longbottom?

She snorted. That would be ridiculous.

No, she just needed to make sure he wasn't going to be anywhere near this place when she lifted the plant. Because whatever else Neville was, he was a damn good Auror that kept her on her toes when he chased her. She'd barely gotten away with the scrolls, though barely was just good enough. And in her avoidance of him, Potter had managed to snag her and ship her off. Though it worked out in her favor, she couldn't forget that she'd been caught.

She hated to admit it, but that group she had picked on more than once in school ended up making a great team at the Ministry. Potter, Weasley, and Longbottom ran the Auror department and despite the epidemic, they did it well. The Granger girl became a lawyer, working to grant the wolves civil rights. And if someone had told 17 year old Pansy Parkinson that she'd one day be following Granger's work so closely Pansy would have laughed herself silly.

But life was funny like that.

She stuck her brochure in her face and watched over the edge of the paper as a pair of guards walked by, their expressions watchful even as their gait was unhurried. It gave her pause. Her research into The Conservatory told her they didn't keep anything truly valuable on the property, which meant the guards were here for the plant. That was 5 guards so far for one tiny little fern.

She trusted Daphne when she said she didn't know what the plant was for about as much as she trusted a dragon telling her he was vegetarian. Actually, she trusted the dragon more than Daphne. That and the added security made her rethink a quick grab. The job might be too hot for her. She could hear Draco's voice in her head, Don't get Arrested.

They weren't just guards, she realized as they walked right by her. She spotted their Auror Badges pinned to their hips. That made four Aurors for sure, and the the 5th was most likely an Auror too. All guarding a small, unknown plant. Yeah right.

The Fern was important. And someone out there knew why.

Decision made, Pansy made a show of yawning before stuffing her brochures into her bag. She stood at the same moment the guards rounded the corner and walked out of sight and her eyes betrayed her as they curiously glanced towards the class again, and to the instructor leading it.

Longbottom was in the middle of a demonstration when he looked right at her, his mouth turning down in a frown. She gave him a flirty smile and made her way off the property before he could get a better look at her. She had to meet with a friend.

oOo

It had been years since she had stepped foot into Malfoy Manor. She was happy to see the gardens were back to their magnificent state, unlike the last time she had been here when the roses had been drooping sadly and the weeds were growing out in every direction. She'd spoken at length with Mrs. Malfoy at Tory's funeral, so she knew Narcissa had spent the last few years putting all her time and effort into making the Manor a colorful, livable place again.

Unlike when she'd visited right after her final year at school, the front door was a gleaming masterpiece, expensive Black Timber polished and smoothed into a tall archway flanked by stained glass windows. The door knob was probably worth more than she got paid on her last job, but felt cold and heavy as she pushed through without knocking.

Not that that deterred the house staff from greeting her promptly the moment she stepped into the extravagant foyer. The old marble floors had been replaced, new marble of greys flecked with blacks, and veined with real gold stretched beneath her feet and it made Pansy wonder just how much Narcissa had to spend to erase every trace of the war from her home.

As the first attendant took her coat, the lock picks hidden in her wrist cuff twinged beneath the leather, begging to pick apart the old wards. Blood or not, her picks didn't care one bit. They just wanted to be used, to be challenged. She would never attempt to break into such old blood wards, but her lock picks were nearly sentient in their eagerness. She shushed them when the attendants weren't looking.

Then the young lady turned to her and said, "Mr. Malfoy is expecting you."

They passed the 'Fancy Parlor' as she called it in her childhood, the one for proper guests, and she caught sight of the new furniture, the new paint job, the shining hardwood floors. The halls split and the young girl the Malfoy's staffed led her up a curved set of stairs that had been completely redone in the same Black Timber the front door had been made of, and into Draco's private parlor.

"Mr. Malfoy will be by shortly. Can I get you any refreshment?"

Pansy turned on her heel and took the room in, spotting Draco's private selection of whiskey by the window. The desk was the same black ebony monstrosity she remembered. Tall shelves lined with books on Magical Law flanked a wider shelf which displayed priceless trinkets and artifacts. She kept turning and came back to the attendant. The girl's eyes were downcast, pinned to the dagger at Pansy's hip. Her shoulders were tensed, in fear. A slow grin crept along Pansy's face and she said, "What's your name?"

"A-Anita, ma-"

"Don't scare the help, Parkinson," Draco snapped meanly, walking into the room. "Thank you Anita. Ignore her, she doesn't bite."

"Yes, I do," Pansy purred, walking to the crystal decanter and pouring herself a strong drink. The dark amber liquid swirled in the expensive crystal glass. She eyed each of the decanters, all less than half full, and knew Draco had been drinking heavily. Not surprising.

She slid into the nearest chair and crossed her legs as 'A-Anita' left the room as quickly and quietly as a mouse. The movement pushed the hemline of her expensive and ridiculous dress up a few inches, just as she wanted. The fabric was synthetic and breathable, painted onto her body. It wouldn't hinder her movement in any way, and she looked hot as hell in it to boot. She wouldn't have worn it otherwise, having long ago decided that she would never be caught unprepared again. She was always ready to fight… or run if she had to.

The dress color was blood red with a deep plunging neckline, but not deep enough that anyone would see the small knife she had tucked between her breasts. Everyone could plainly see the dagger held magically by the sheath to her hip, the wicked curve of the blade shiny and deadly both. They would never expect someone dressed like Pansy was to have more weapons on her person. But she did. Far more than just the two blades.

She was always prepared.

Draco poured himself a drink, a much larger drink than the one she had, and ignored her posturing. He didn't say anything and her thoughts wandered to Posy, and how much she would have loved the dress. She would have said it was Puuuuurfect in her dramatic voice, she would have pushed her hands down her sides as she wiggled and said, oo-la-la.

Sipping heavily from her drink, she looked up at Draco expectantly when he walked towards her. It wouldn't be any good to put Draco at ease, because the very thing on her mind that she wasn't supposed to think about was the reason for her visit. She needed him to have his wits about him for this, and she worried about those dark circles under his eyes.

Those shadowed eyes went first to her bare legs, then to the dagger at her side, and finally to her face making the sides of her lips twitch up. She couldn't help it, a part of her always liked seeing him in his tortured soul mode - and fact was, since the death of his wife, he had taken up permanent residence. It was out of respect for Astoria that she hadn't remained standing. Usually she would have perched by the window, her heels putting her almost eye level with her old friend. Any small advantage she could find she would use to help herself, she'd use in a heartbeat.

Now she looked up and met the bitter blue eyes of Draco Malfoy and stood slowly, balancing on the balls of her feet. "Oh Drakey - you look old."

His pale eyebrow rose a fraction. "And you look slutty. Are you going to stab me this visit, Pansy?"

Within the next second she had her favorite dagger in her hands, playing the blade through her fingers with swift, familiar movements. "I'm not planning on it."

"That's probably the best I'll get," he said, and took the steps toward her, dragging her up into a bone crushing hug. Their words might have seemed strange, but their friendship was like that. Strange, filled with mean words, but permanent.

She slipped her dagger back into its sheath and returned the motion, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and clutching to him tightly. The tremble in his frame made the angry place inside her rise to attention. He was thinner than he'd been at Tory's funeral, and she hated that. He was skinny enough. She was a shit talker, and as classic as it was, she used her words to deflect. But there were few people in this world she cared for and two of them were hurting badly. She was doing what she could to help the other, but Draco was in her arms and she could feel the heaviness in his heart. It had been months since Astoria slipped into a painful, brutal death. And she suspected Draco wouldn't be over it for years to come.

He held onto his pain. The fool. The secret heart of herself, the part no one ever saw, wanted to bundle him up. She wanted to take him back to her villa in Italy and keep him away from all the harmful elements their homeland had to offer. But she knew just as well as any that he would never allow such babying, and he would never return to the last place he had taken his wife before her pain became too much to bare such travel.

Her tone, however, when she spoke was rude. "Poor Malfoy, no friends and no wife."

His head shook against her neck and she ignored the soft wet spot she felt knowing it would only embarrass him. Oh, on second thought, she said, "Wow and now you're crying. That's pathetic, Draco."

"You're such a bitch sometimes, Pans," he said, finally pulling away from her. His finger came up and brushed away the wet spot on her neck, his eyes deceptively dry.

"You want an apology from me?" she asked, placing her hand dramatically over her heart.

"No. I wouldn't waste my time attempting something so impossible," he gestured for her to take a seat again as he leaned back into his own chair and his dry, bitter eyes turned hard.

"You pay me a lot of money for legal advice you never follow."

Rolling her eyes she said, "Potter doesn't know I'm back. And it's been a few years. He's probably forgotten all about me."

"That's optimistic coming from you. Potter would be happy to see you sitting in a cell, though probably not as much as Longbottom would."

"He can't still be upset about that little incident?"

"That little incident where you stabbed him?"

"I barely got him."

"He says it still feels cold."

Pansy set down her drink and pulled her enchanted dagger out. The hilt wrapped in black leather straps came to hand like it had a thousand times before. The blade glinted like a wink and she felt a true smile tug at her lips, her finger running the length of the curved metal. The silver felt warm to the touch… to her. To anyone else it would be so cold it would burn after even a second of contact. She hadn't done the enchantment herself. No, it had been an emotional storm full of her own fury and icy determination all channeled into a single, swift heartstrike that had altered her blade permanently.

"I barely got him," she repeated. According to the metalsmith she spoke with, one with an affinity towards charming such items, he had never seen such a potent enchantment before. Not on a weapon. She hadn't told him that her blade had soaked for hours in the Heart's Blood of her rapist.

"You stabbed him in the shoulder," Draco's voice drew her attention.

"I could have stabbed him in the heart. He's lucky."

Draco narrowed his eyes at her, and she felt annoyed at how much emotion he had been showing lately. "You know he has a picture of you in his office?"

"Oh I sent him some rather racy photos once, I'm sorry if you got an eyefull."

"Don't be lewd, Pansy. I think he uses it as a Dart Board. He drew a large, red X through your face."

"Mmm," she hummed with pleasure. "That just means he's thinking about me."

Draco made a show of giving her an exasperated look. "Whatever Daphne wants you to do, you need to be quiet and quick about it. Don't draw any attention from the Aurors. And absolutely don't get arrested."

There it was. The little phrase she'd been waiting for.

"That might be a problem," she admitted and then told him all about her trip to The Conservatory. "What do you know about that stupid Fern?"

He sat silently, sipping from his drink far more often than she. Thinking. His brain going faster than a new Firebolt. "Did you recognize any of the Aurors? Or they you?"

She shook her head no. "I disguised myself."

"With Magic?" his eyes widened in surprise.

She didn't dignify that with a response, instead playing with her dagger absentmindedly.

"Maybe there's hope for you yet, Parkinson," he finished his drink and stood to pour another, his hands reaching out quickly before pausing just as suddenly. "Wolves."

Her head shot up at his quietly spoken word. "Wolves?"

"Why else would there be five guards on your Fern?"

Wolves.

Of course it was the wolves. There wasn't a more hot political topic and wouldn't be for years to come. The Epidemic was bigger news than either war. "She wants to test it with Wolfsbane."

"If her company could find a way to enhance Wolfsbane, she'll make millions."

The only problem was… "She would put a premium price on it, most wolves won't be able to afford it. They can't afford Wolfsbane as is, and supplies are heavily in demand." she said, her heart fluttering with panic.

"The Families would fund her. You know Marcus always had a soft spot for Daphne, his family would back her easily."

"And if I'm the one that hands her the plant -"

"You have to get her back first." Draco interrupted. "Don't jump five steps ahead."

"If I do get her back," she sucked in air hard through her teeth. "If I get her back safely… and I have this potion waiting for her…"

"Daphne wouldn't do you this favor. You know she wouldn't."

"Money isn't the issue, Malfoy."

"You need money to get -"

"Spellthief for Hire. Right here. Hello. Hi! I'm always bringing in more money."

"Pansy, look at me. There's no guarantee that she can enhance the Wolfsbane potion, she's just rolling the dice right now. I know her business. She doesn't have the kind of funding needed to put into that kind of potion research right now. She just doesn't. If you leave the plant with the Aurors…"

"Yes, they have the money to throw at the problem but it'll take longer. Retrieving the Fern for Daphne is best for me twice over. I get the money I need to pay off Mother Dearest, and Daphne gets the plant which could help me out in the long run."

"But you draw attention to yourself in that scenario. Unwanted attention. Potter won't put you on a boat to France again, Pansy. He catches you this time, you will be in Azkaban faster than my father."

She stood, unafraid of him. "I came back to this fucking country for one reason. I'm getting my little sister back from my Psychopathic Mother, Draco. Are you going to help me or not?"

"Posy is a 9 year old wolf. How do you plan on getting her out of this country undetected? They don't just hand out Portkeys anymore."

Her fingers went to the glinting emerald pendant on her neck. His eyes followed the movement with a frown. "You know damn well I've been prepared for this for a long time, Draco."

"When…" he shook his head. "Must I remind you that Portkeys are illegal?"

"Portkey? What Portkey?"

"I don't think you should take this job."

"Too late." Pansy shrugged and finished off her drink. She would do anything for Posy, and she wasn't going to give up until her Mother was dead in the ground.

As if he followed her thoughts, he stood and took her glass. "How far would you go?"

"Baby sister has been locked in a cage for 3 months now." Pansy whispered to him. "What would you do?"

"The law may yet win out. Granger is working on it."

"And I should wait for our Government to get over their fears? Accept that Werewolves are people too? With rights?"

His silence was all the answer she needed.

"I've been coming and going for years now. This time I'm not leaving until Pearl is in the ground, and my sister is safe with me."

He nodded. "I'm just afraid you won't be leaving at all this time, Pansy."

She left his study then, her boots clicking against the new floors and her belly full of whiskey. She didn't have the heart to tell him she didn't care if she left this time. As long as Posy was okay, she didn't care if she ended up in the same grave as her Mother. Posy may be so much younger than Pansy, her heart soft despite her Lycanthropy, but she was a fighter. She would make it no matter what.

Pansy's hand tightened around her dagger unconsciously. As long as Pearl lived, her precious little sister was in danger.

And Pansy wasn't in control.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

(where Pansy breaks into Theo's flat and gives him 10 more grey hairs)

If he read anymore reports his eyes were going to fall out of his head, he thought, pushing aside a stack of files and putting his booted feet up on his desk. He chugged from his water bottle and tried to relax his muscles for the hundred millionth time. As usual it didn't work, the soreness unlike anything he had ever experienced before. Instead he leaned back in his chair and tried to tease out the notes of his case in his head.

Drugs, wolves, and sex. And Neville Longbottom was tasked with fixing the problem.

Three wolf families, the Vistain's, the Fawley's, and the Barton's, all connected by their drug dealings and the violence that came with it. His eyes were closed, but the cold, mauled and contorted body of Katherine Whittler was burned into his mind. Every scratch, every bite mark, every wound that had been mercilessly cut into her dark brown skin was a colorful splash against the back of his eyelids. If she had lived, she'd have become the thing that attacked her, but it had been the Full Moon and the revels had been in full swing. She hadn't stood a chance.

Shamefully, he had nothing to show for it after months of work. Only more questions and connections he couldn't understand. And worse, more victims. He repeated the names in his head, Katherine Whittler, Abigail Jory, Edina Nelson, Ruth Woodman, Heather Clarke, Colette Michelson, Joanna Page, Marie Simmons. All women, witches. None older than 35 or younger than 18, but all different body types, different backgrounds. Their bodies had all been found in the same place, with the same types of wounds, the day after the Full Moon. One girl a month, month after month.

And the next Full moon was in four days.

"Hey LB, how'd the class go?" Cassie asked him, knocking on his open office door.

"Good, always fun to go back to the basics. Sorry you couldn't make it this time, how's Rob?" he asked, looking up the curvy witch that ran the mail for the offices.

"Sick and whiny, but he'll be okay. Just a little cold, I'm thinking." Cassie frowned, speaking of her oldest son and dropping a stack of yellow envelopes on his desk. "Pepper-Ups are the only thing that work, but they are hard to come by. I miss the old days sometimes."

"Don't we all." he mumbled, grabbing his worn dart from its spot stuck in his desk.

"I'll try to come by next time. I like the idea of putting a man twice my weight on the ground." Cassie laughed as she shuffled along down the corridor, carting files and mail. He could teach her how to do that easily, but only if she showed up he thought.

Neville groaned at the ache in his muscles and stretched his arms overhead, his head swimming with his current case and the desperate need he felt to teach these women how to defend themselves. Because he wasn't sure what he would do if he found another dead witch.

Drugs, wolves, and sex. All the girls had tested positive for short term exposure to Glimmer, all had defensive wounds, all had been raped prior to their death. He was all for wolves getting the rights of wizards, but they weren't helping their case at all with all the illegal activity and brutal violence. He reminded himself that it was just the feuding families that were causing the problems. The others, he knew, were just victims of circumstance trying to make the best of a bad situation. They certainly hadn't asked to be infected with Lycanthropy, unlike the families.

The monthly revels were just an excuse, a reason for a major celebration to change a family member into wolf. It got rowdy as Neville had seen first hand. Now even he locked himself in a safe place on the Full Moon nights to avoid the sheer destruction and lawless turbulence of the revels. He had seen a lot in the line of duty, but nothing nearly as gruesome or violent as the revels. Not even during the war. And those revels were giving a terrible name to the other wolves trying to make a better life for themselves. It was the sole reason Hermione hadn't been able to sway the Courts into passing a law, defining wolves as people and not creatures. Giving them basic rights to work, to healthcare, to wands.

The families though… he shook his head, the list of names in his head slowly becoming a mantra. It was smart of them to band together when it became clear the Ministry was doing dick all to include them, or recognize them as people and not creatures. It became bigger than pacts, better even. Their loyalty unquestioned between them, their ranks impenetrable. The combined resources allowed them to buy up business and take over the economy, corrupting most potion companies. And things started getting nasty, in-fighting and bad blood led to violence then murder and everything in between.

Katherine hadn't been the first, but Neville had been the one to find her. And he couldn't get the image of her body out of his mind. Her curly black hair damp from the rain, her limbs bent in the wrong direction, her body violated...

He rolled the dart between his thumb and forefinger, looking over his cork board loaded with pictures of the families and their victims, thread ties lining the known connections between them. The heavily lined face of Chester Barton sat at the top. The first known wolf that managed to get his whole family turned before consolidating his wealth and starting the drug trade.

He was positive Barton was the biggest threat, but the hardest to reach.

Maybe Neville would have been okay with the take over, but they brought drugs into the picture. Wizards had never dealt with a problem like drugs before, and thus, had no idea the kind of damage it could bring. People were _dying._ And the Aurors had spent years scrambling just to figure out how to fix the problem.

Neville hadn't fought tooth and nail against the tyranny of Voldemort and his followers just to live in a drug riddled world with bad politics and feuding wolf families making a mess of a mess. What was supposed to be a few years helping his friends right the Ministry after the war turned into a full time career as an Auror. A Specialist they called him, because of his training. When Magic started going wonky, he started physical training. The decision based on his need to never been taken by surprise again. Too much time spent being bullied in school and beat up on in 7th year.

Then the incident happened.

Now he seemed to be chasing a wolf serial killer, and he had _no leads._

His eyes went from the board to the picture stapled to the wall by the door. A black and white still photo of Pansy Parkinson with a red X drawn over her face. An X he put there. As if he didn't have enough to deal with all the years, her petty crimes popped up again and again, distracting him from his other cases. A spellthief, he wanted to laugh. A spellthief that didn't do magic. What a moron. Instead she carried potions, the only reliable source of magic left, in a specially made sash across her chest. He knew about the incredibly rare ward picks she kept with her and the enchanted dagger she favored. He rubbed the scar just below his shoulder and frowned. That stupid dagger had slid through skin and bone like it was nothing, and left a chill he couldn't rid. The dart in his hand soared through the air, landing right between her eyes.

"Whoa, what's up LB?" Ron said, his tall form leaning against the door frame. "Wanna go get a drink?"

"Nah, I need to go see Susie."

"They figure out how to reverse the effects yet?"

"Nahh. And they aren't trying anymore either. Trying to figure out the fern instead." Neville shrugged, stood, rubbed at his shoulder muscles.

"Well - sorry man. I don't see why you'd want to reverse it anyways."

"You try living with aching muscles 24/7 and tell me how you feel then."

"Nice trade off though, I'd think?" Ron said with a half smile. "I'll be at the Corner if you want to join me. I have a pint with my name on it. Capital R. O. N."

Neville rolled his eyes as Ron walked away, spelling his name and lamenting about the beer he was going to drink. Seeing Susie hadn't been in his plans, but now that he had said it it sounded like a perfect idea. He switched off his light and left the office, leaving the dart buried in the picture of Parkinson. He stopped by Harry's office to give him a quick update but the room was empty, though the light remained switched on so he couldn't be far. Neville worked far more hours than he was scheduled for, but Harry usually put him to shame.

Might as well call the whole Auror Department Workaholics Anonymous, because if his fellow Auror's weren't working, they were drinking. And if they weren't drinking, they were working.

Instead of Apparating, he pulled his coat and scarf around him tight and walked the several blocks over to the entrance of St. Mungo's, stepping through the broken window and over the mangled mannequin. The old reception room was stacked with dusty boxes and littered with trash and old files. He made his way passed the broken elevator and instead took the stairs two at a time.

On the third floor, he didn't pull out a light to break through the darkness, instead he wandered to the only running office and stepped through without a knock.

"Sweet Hufflepuff, you scared me Nev." her lilting voice sounded gentle and melodic, but he knew better. He shrugged as he slid into the chair across from Susan Bones, her messy red hair pulled into a ponytail and dark bags under her tawny colored eyes. In the dim light of the only burning candle, her freckles looked like little dark spots on her skin.

"What are you working on tonight, Susie?"

"The usual - money and potions and staff. The only things that make our world go round these days, and that which I am supremely lacking."

"Take a break. Massage me." Neville gave her a rare smile and tried not to let the pain shine through his eyes. She always gave him shit for looking like he was in pain, but he was always in pain.

"Like I don't have a thousand things to do already, you come begging me for help I can't give you." her words were as harsh as her voice was sweet, but she stood from her desk and came around to the back of his chair, where she began digging her elbows into the muscles of his back and shoulders.

"Still training?" she asked a minute later.

"Yep." he resisted the urge to moan. Nothing else helped with the pain of his muscles, not magic, not potions, not the Muggle pills he'd tried over and over again. But a hard muscle massage managed to dull the ache for a few hours. Enough that he could get to sleep at least.

"Good." She worked him over for a long while, her hands never tiring, before she took out her wand. "Tell me if it hurts."

The magic from her wand kind of spurted, a strange yellowish light that stuttered and stuttered until Susie took a deep breath and focused harder. The light stabilized into a thin stream and she slowly ran her tests. It did hurt. "I don't see any changes, Nev. I'm sorry."

"I didn't expect it had."

"Do you feel any different?"

"How scared would you be if I said I think I've gotten stronger?" he asked her as she continued to move her wand in slow, calculated movements. Her goal was to not disturb the flow of magic, because it was hard to get it going after you lost it.

"Pretty terrified, actually. I saw you lift a Taxi off a Muggle with one hand, how much stronger can you get?"

Another shrug. "Then I won't tell you I think I've gotten stronger. Wouldn't want to upset your delicate nature."

"Oh goodie." Sarcasm dripped from her words.

"Your massage helped, thanks Susie."

"Don't drink, it makes it worse."

"I know, Susie."

"Don't sneak up on me either, otherwise _I'll_ make it worse."

"Yes, Susie."

"Stronger?" she shook her wand, the magic going out with a sad deflating noise, and stuffed it back into her robes, her hand ruffling his hair afterward. She gave him a crossed eyed look, but he spotted concern in her eyes. "And don't give me any lip."

He laughed at the old familiar saying, dating back to the first time they been paired together in in Auror training. She'd split off after a few months and went into Healing, but their friendship had been forged strong in the short time they'd spent together. "Yeah, but no increase in pain."

"You're pissed." she said, retaking her seat and picking up some form or another. "But not about the increase in strength?"

Katherine Whittler's bloody corpse came to mind. She hadn't stood a chance. "Yeah - I'm pissed."

Her chair spun and she went to a cabinet, filing some papers, taking some out. She spun back around and said, "Get over it. We both have a job to do and you're no good when you're mad."

"What's my job?" he asked, stretching his legs out in front of him.

Another crossed eyed look before she said, "Don't be daft, Neville. You help people. And you're going to keep doing it if I have anything to say about it. I know they ordered me and the team not to continue the research into the potion that did this to you, but I still am."

"I want to tell you not to worry so much. Put it on the back burner for now, I know the fern is important."

"You're important too."

"They think this fern can help stabilize potions, and magic needs that right now. I'm the only one affected by the experiment."

"Experiment? That's a nice way to put it." her fingers stacked a pile of papers with quick efficiency. "But they don't think it'll stabilize potions anymore."

"Really? What does it do? Did they figure it out?"

Her nod was quick.

"Good or bad? Susie?"

"Very good. If we can get more of it."

He crossed his arms. "Tell me more."

oOo

Dawn was a while away, the night sky black and void of stars as she quietly took the fire escape upwards to a comically expensive studio apartment in heart of London. The temperature was dropping quickly, and the thick clouds overhead promised snow. Her black leathers clung to the curves of her body like a lover keeping her warm, her hands tucked into half-fingered leather gloves as she climbed up without a sound. She had made a brief stop to her small house earlier to change before heading over to see Theo.

Surprise him actually, she smirked as she rolled over the edge and landed in a crouch on the clean swept roof. From there she took a running jump over the smallish gap between the buildings and gripped the edge of the higher roof with her fingers, using the traction on her boots to stabilize herself before swinging her body over the railing.

Cold air filled her lungs and she felt the thrill of sneaking around fill her to the bones with every breath. She pushed dark hair out of her way as she peered down through the skylight into Theo's lair, knowing his insomniac tendencies would have him up late working. Right as always, she could see him working at his desk, papers and books and what looked to be a magically enhanced laptop providing the only light in the room.

Paranoia had him living in this ridiculous square box with one steel and magically reinforced door as the only entrance. However, Theo had always been a creature of the light and couldn't resist putting in a skylight. The roof was usually inaccessible unless you had a broom, but his anti-magic shield repelled anything magical or spelled, which is why her ward picks and wand were at the house.

She wondered why wards weren't affected by the change in magic, all those years ago. Potions still worked alright, though it took more ingredients and more magic that most could muster up these days. Magic through the wand was the hardest. And ironically, she had little trouble with it.

But Theo had always been adept at wards, and his Anti-Magic shell was intense. The only thing it couldn't pick up was the presence of potions, at least that's what she thought.

Instead she took a plain, ordinary set of lock picks from her back pocket and took her time undoing the lock on the skylight. It clicked open a minute later and she swung the pane upwards and shimmied through, angling her descent so she landed right behind Theo's chair. She landed with a soft sound, her knees bent to absorb the impact.

Theo made no move to indicate he had sensed her entrance, so she leaned in towards his ear spotting a small bud plugged into his ear canal. She picked up the faint echo of a classical piece over the quick tapping of his fingers across the keyboard, and felt her smirk widen. Coming in close to his neck, she rounded her lips and blew ever so gently.

" _Geeaaahh!"_

Theo jumped out of his skin, the wireless earbuds flying from his ears as he swung his chair around, wand out and pointed at her. His laptop tumbled over and took away the only light source in the room. But she read the movement from his shoulders and already had her hand out, knocking the wand from his fingers easily. The stick straight Birch hit the floor and bounced away with a thump.

"Hello Theodore." she said, grabbing his hands before he attempted to swing at her.

He surged forward in an ill attempt to knock her off balance and she shifted to make room, her grip on his hands tightening and thrusting out into his abdomen with a hard punch. Groaning, he bent to take the punch and she swung around, gripping one wrist as she came behind him and pinned that wrist against his back.

"Ow - ow - ow!"

"Now why would you do that, Theodore?"

"You scared the ever-living shit out of me, that's why."

She leaned forward ever so slightly, putting a touch more pressure on his arm. "Any more and this arm will break, how does that sound?"

"Sounds like you're still a fucking bitch." was his arctic reply.

"Foreplay already?" she asked, breath against his neck.

"Is that what this is? A booty call?" he laughed and it gave his dark eyes a gleam.

She stepped away as she released her grip on his arm, "What do you have to drink?"

"The cheap swill in the back still has your name on it. Still can't believe Tory actually bought that bottle for you." he rubbed at his arm. "Ouch. Ahh -"

"I barely touched you." she mumbled, digging through the large stand alone cabinet she knew he kept his alcoholic needs in. She grabbed the first bottle of sweet blackberry brandy and held it up for him. "Seriously? This is disgusting."

He shrugged, hissing when his arm continued to aggravate him. He massaged the hurt, pushing up his sleeve in the process. She spotted the healed cuts on his wrists and arms, the old bruises that never seemed to fade dotted across his skin.

As far as she knew, he had gotten over his nasty little habit and supplemented it with copious amounts of booze, and as far as she was concerned that was just fine. She knew all about slipping into the sweet promise of oblivion, it was why she was here after all.

Fake gagging, she set the brandy down and that's when her fingers grabbed at the little black baggie that was hidden behind it. "Damn it, Theo." Maybe he hadn't gotten over his habit.

She held it up and looked at him in disgust. "Seriously, you're using again? You're such a piece of shit."

He grabbed the baggie from her and stashed it in his desk, slamming the drawer shut with more force than necessary. "No, Pansy. No."

"So you just keep it on hand? That shit will kill you Theo. If you want to die so badly, I can do that for you a lot quicker than this crap."

"Blah blah I know." he snapped, pushing her away when she stepped in front of him. "I'm not using Pansy. I promise."

"Yeah I've heard that promise before." she growled. Angrily pushing aside the expensive bottles of aged scotch and brandies and sweet liqueurs, she found the cheap whiskey that was in the back, her name written on it in a delicate handwriting. She twisted off the cap and threw it over her shoulder while giving him the death glare.

"Don't look at me like that. I haven't seen you in years, and now you show up out of the blue?"

"Weirdly, I actually wanted to see you. Lesson learned."

"I gave you the truth, you can believe it or not."

"Why keep it around if you aren't using it?" she took a swig of the whiskey and opened the drawer with her other hand. The little black baggie held tiny green and blue crystals, like small diamonds, the deeper the color the higher the potency, and she knew if she undid the tie she would smell the acidic burn of magic. Overwhelming and powerful. And permanently imprinted in her brain. The high was unlike anything she had ever experienced, a feeling of pure bliss, of oblivion. They were one and the same. No pain, no hurts, no anything. Until it wore off and left you with a desperate craving for more, and a willingness to do anything to get more.

It was uncontrollable.

And Pansy liked control far too much.

He snatched the bottle from her and poured the liquid into a clean, concave shaped glass before handing it back to her. "You see it right? The tie is untouched. That means I haven't taken any. The day you don't see it is the day I started using again and that-" he poked her hard in the shoulder with his forefinger. "- is the day you can yell at me."

"No, I only yell at my friends." she said, taking the baggie from him and dropping it back into the drawer.

"What the hell do you want?" he flopped into his chair and reopened his laptop, pointedly looking away from her. She wondered around for moment, drinking from her glass with slow measured sips as she took in his place.

It hadn't changed since the last time and though she found the art on the walls to be rather moody, she liked the dark colors against the white walls. What walls weren't covered in art stood behind tall bookshelves. The space was small though and she completed her tour far too quickly, coming back to Theo's hunched over, brooding form. His fingers danced over the keyboard and his eyes darted across the bright screen rapidly.

She took a long breath through her nose. He didn't smell like the caustic burn that came with his drug habit, the small crystals made from the unpredictable magic that had been tormenting their world in the last ten years. Some well-meaning idiot had attempted to harness it, test it, figure out it's purpose. In the process he had made a drug so addictive and harmful, but only to wizards and witches… and wolves.

And the wolf population had more than quadrupled in the last decade.

Thankfully, Theo had managed to kick his habit. At least, her nose told her he wasn't currently using. Magic was fickle enough lately, and the more Glimmer consumed the more magic it drained. He used to smell like that magic, but it had faded away with his habit over the years. Instead he smelled of something garlicky he'd eaten for dinner, and the sweet alcohol he'd been drinking for at least several hours.

"When was the last time you left your house?" she asked.

Another shrug followed by another wince.

She pushed at his hurt arm, his chair swinging him towards her. "Ouch! Damnit Pansy! Leave me alone - I'm working."

She slid onto his lap before he could say another word and pressed her mouth over his, and found her own brand oblivion. Because she was pissed at Draco and she was pissed at her mother. Pearl Parkinson had done everything in her power to make Pansy feel inadequate . When she had been a little girl, it had worked. Pansy had felt no where near good enough for the graceful, lovely Pearl. But now…

Now she knew better. But locking Posy up, and hiding behind the law while she did it, took the hard fought control out of Pansy's hands. And sadly it wasn't a problem that was so easily solved. It would take time.

There was only one person in England she trusted not to stab her in the back while she was vulnerable and he was surprisingly skilled at making her forget her problems… at least for a short while.

A hard fuck was exactly what she needed. Except it wasn't working this time, even as Theo reacted to her with enthusiasm. She expected the dark edge to creep up on her, her body taking over as her mind shut down. She deepened the kiss, digging her fingers into his dark hair, her legs straddling his on either side. He responded instantly, wrapping his arms around her middle, his long fingers pushing into her back. It pushed his growing erection to the sensitive area between her legs.

 _Yes… there_. She thought, her body reacting, her body needing.

Except… it wasn't working.

And Theo was smart enough to know it, he recognized her instant frustration. He tightened his grip and lifted her up onto the desk, stepping between her legs and bending her over his arm roughly. "Yes." she mumbled between his lips. "Make it hurt."

A groan. "No." he sighed, pulling back. "I won't do that."

"Damnit, Theo." she pushed him away angrily.

"I don't hurt my friends, Pans. Not even when they want it." he sat back in his chair and adjusted his pants, giving her a hard look.

"We're not friends." she insisted, returning the look. "And I don't want you to hurt me just-" she stretched. "Rough me up a bit."

"You give me shit about my bad choices and yet you do this to yourself?"

"My bad choices won't kill me." she snapped, grabbing her empty glass and refilling it, only to down it immediately. She looked him dead in the eye as she wiped her lip. She wouldn't beg, never would she beg again. The look in his eyes said he wouldn't put up with her for much longer though. "Tell me about Daphne."

"Nothing interesting. Except… I can't figure out who's funding her but the job is legit. Illegal, but for you it's legit. Greengrass is telling the truth about wanting the plant for herself."

"That's why you gave her my name?" she asked, then realized with a sickening crunch in her stomach. "You know."

He got up with jagged moves, the pain evident in the tense lines of his body beneath his tight shirt. Moving to the bed, he sat on the edge and leaned back. "Yes."

Her fingers curled as she marched the few steps to his bed, coming down on him hard. She pinned him flat in two seconds, her elbow pressing into his throat. "I can't punch my way out of this, Theo. If you know anything, tell me. Or I'll beat it out of you."

"I put it together after finding receipts, construction. Coincided with Posy's disappearance. Your mother had a prison built. I knew the only way you'd be able to get your baby sister back was with money, buy her. Like a house elf. So I sent you the job and you didn't even thank me yet."

Silence followed his words, the quiet stretching between them. A prison, she thought with a dull ache in her heart. She could only imagine what that meant, what kind of dark room her mother was keeping Posy in. Her bright, sunny baby sister. The rage simmered, wanting to lash out, to hurt someone, to destroy something, break it into pieces. Preferably her mother, but damnit… Pearl was just out of reach. An army of lawyers and a pile of money at her disposal. But… Theo had helped Pansy. Not the way she had come for, but he had helped her when he didn't have to.

She stumbled off the bed, blowing out a hard breath.

She parted the zipper of her leather vest, reaching into the inside pocket and took out the bag of potions she brought. She dropped it on the desk, the bottles clinking together, the blue light from the laptop glinting off the glass. It was the least she could do.

"For the pain, Theo."

She left him alone then, leaving through the front door this time with the intent of finding something or someone to punch, and she missed when he downed two bottles back to back before crashing into his bed, passed out.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews/follows! I'm trying to update every weekend, hopefully I stick to that. This is your **violence warning** for this chapter. Things will only get more heavy from here.

* * *

Chapter Three

(where Ron and Harry make a bet, and Pansy suits up)

"Hello, Mother."

"Pansy, darling. How do you expect to find a husband if you are off gallivanting in Spain?" Pearl's soprano voice dripped with it's usual disdain as she brushed a dusty rose blush across her delicate cheekbones with an old fashioned make-up brush. The same color would have made Pansy look like a corpse with red painted cheeks, her skin far too pale to handle so much color. "Unless you plan to wed the young Theodore. Your father and I would be happy to arrange that liaison for you."

Pansy wondered if it possible to go blind from rolling your eyes too much. "I don't expect to find a husband at all, Mother."

Pearl made a polite yet disapproving noise. "Well, you know how I feel about that."

"Yes, I know exactly how you feel about _that._ " As they had had this conversation about a hundred times previously. So she was completely aware about her mother's feelings.

That Pansy was useless without a proper husband to marry. That Pansy would never amount to anything unless she could provide a proper heir for a proper family. That Pansy was wasting her time traveling.

After all… she was only getting older. At least if her eyes fell out of her head she wouldn't have to see the look of hatred in her Mother's eyes every time they talked. It was a quiet hatred, a small thing, like a twisting stream slowly wearing away at the rock. The water flowing over the rough surface would soon smooth it out, wear it down, erase it. Eventually, the rock would be gone.

"Don't pout, dear. It'll put lines on your face."

Pansy refused to let her Mother dim her in any way, but it took everything she had. A teeth gritting determination to hold on to the things that defined Pansy, made her who she was and not the witch her Mother wished her to be. The best course of action was to avoid Pearl all together. Take the rock to higher ground. Pearl couldn't demean and belittle her with her sweet, delicate voice if Pansy wasn't around. The day she came home from school, bruised and tired, violated and ostracized, her Mother had said three little words to her and it had finally struck home.

" _Oh, you're alive?"_

As if there was nothing worse Pansy could have done than making it out of a war zone, alive and well. She had moved out the very next day without a word to the woman who had given her life. And had not seen her until now.

But it wasn't her Mother that had her returning home. She was leaving for Spain for several months, her and a few friends, and she needed to at least say farewell to her father. The parent that had shown open affection to his daughter when he was emotionally ambivalent about anything else, the parent that had been happy she made it home not unscathed, but she had made it.

"Perhaps traveling abroad will give you much needed perspective, darling."

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm looking for. Maybe I'll take a few lovers, maybe find some Muggle friends. Gain some _perspective._ Isn't that what the Ministry is suggesting us Purebloods do?"

Her Mother would never frown, lest she find herself with a wrinkle in her otherwise perfectly smooth skin. But the look she gave Pansy then was close. "I doubt that's the true meaning behind the Ministry's agenda."

They could go on and on, Pansy knew. Until Pearl forced her to be rude, then Pansy would be in the wrong for disrespecting her mother. So it was nice timing for her Father to walk in then. "Ah my two favorite girls."

A tall man with years of work on his aquiline face, a head of dark hair, and a friendly smile he only ever showed Pansy, that was her father. He went to Pansy first, and she didn't miss that small spark of hatred in Pearl's eyes as Tarrant Parkinson took his daughter's hands in his own. Where it came from, she didn't know. Jealousy of Tarrant's affections? Or disappointment in how she turned out? It could be either of those, or anything else for that matter. She certainly hadn't turned out like her mother, in appearance or otherwise. No, Pansy took after Tarrant's side of the family. Black hair, thick and stick straight down her back where Pearl's golden blonde hair tumbled in shining waves that put everyone else's to shame.

Quite like her Aunt, Tarrant's little sister, Pansy had a small set of lips that sat in the shape of a bow, where Pearl's were full and pouty in a way that was attractive. Where Pansy had an upturned nose and flat cheekbones, Pearl had a graceful narrow bridge and pinched cheeks that screamed dainty and refined. Add that to her English Rose complexion and bright blue eyes, Pearl seemed a delicate and gentle lady that made Pansy seem almost brutish in comparison.

Hardly the wanted the daughter. But that didn't stop Tarrant from loving her, so Pansy just thought her Mother was a bitch and left it at that. What else could she do? Beg? Never.

Tarrant loaded his pipe and lit with the tip of his wand, filling the space with the smell of expensive tobacco and the sweet undertone of mint julep. The three spoke briefly, Pearl making it abundantly clear she wasn't going to leave Pansy alone to speak freely with Tarrant, so Pansy did her best to convey her love to her father before standing to take her leave. Her relationship with her Papa was as easy as her relationship with Pearl was complicated, he would understand all the unsaid things between them.

"Leaving so soon, daughter? Have safe travels."

"Goodbye, Mother." she responded and it sounded as normal as could be. Then she embraced her Father with both hands. "Farewell, Papa."

"Safe travels, my little spitfire." Tarrant whispered into her hair at the same time she felt a heavy weight slip into the pocket of her robes. "Just in case you find yourself without your wand, give them hell."

She waited until she was safe at the small cottage she was sharing with Theo for the short time before their trip to pull out the package wrapped in brown paper and twine, her fingers undoing the simple knot in the front. The paper fell away to reveal a simple dagger, the hilt wrapped in black leather, the blade curved and wicked.

oOo

She had expected to spend a few hours banging out her frustrations with Theo only to find herself pulling up her hood and leaning against the forest giant that sat on the edge of the grass lot at The Conservatory. The dead of night with the promise of snow had it far more quiet than earlier in the day.

Of course, earlier in the day it had been a mild, sunny day. Now the clouds rolled overhead, a chill in the wind that froze her bones, the grass and leaves beneath her feet a cold crunch. Thankfully, her leather jumpsuit was designed with thermal inlay, to keep her warm on such nights. But the cold felt invasive and the longer she lingered in the shadows, the more it pressed into her. It made her pause, look around. Her picks in her cuffs remained still and silent, no wards around to be broken. Nothing to announce her presence.

There may not have been a ward, but Magic was finicky lately. Her eyes looked over the dark seemingly empty building. The inside visible through the walls made entirely of clear glass windows showed the magical forest she had surveyed that day. Strings of lights swung in the breeze, connecting the outside walk ways and led to the front door as well as the hidden door of the ballroom. They circled the well placed bushes that lined the walkways, softly illuminating the outdoor gardens full of richly colored and lush flowers.

She sucked in a breath. The flowers were in full bloom, their petals unaffected by the icy air. Her eyes narrowed as she looked around again, with that information in mind. The grass outside of the garden had a subtle line in a circle around the property, the grass closest to her heavy with frost where the grass on the property remained untouched.

Was it on purpose, or a coincidence of magic?

She couldn't see any guards patrolling the perimeter, but she stayed by her tree for several minutes longer, searching for any movement on the inside. Finally, she slipped through the darkness on silent feet, taking not the shortest route, but the least visible one to the bench she had sat on that afternoon, using the tall bushes to hide her form should anyone be looking. It also gave her a direct line of sight to the entrance of the hallway she needed to get into. The one corded off and guarded by three Aurors during the day.

She prayed to whoever was listening that the Auror Department didn't care as much during the nighttime hours, but she had no such luck. Two Aurors held their post by the office doors, one with a book in his hands, the other keeping a steady watch. Unlike the outer building, the offices she needed to get into had no windows. And she didn't know which room the target was hidden away in either. It would be stupid to assume The Fern would be visible, or even alone in the room it happened to be in. Though more guards seemed excessive to her. But if her theory about what the Fern did turned out to be true, it would make sense the Ministry would want to keep it safe. There weren't any guards roaming outside, but maybe those two guards missing from the outside route were on the inside now.

Though she got the sense from her picks that there still weren't any wards in the area, she took her time looking around for any kind of magical traps. The Italians were fans of traps in particular. She'd almost set one off once, because of the sheer simplicity of the single string attached to a loose board in the wall. A horn lay behind the wall there, ready to announce to the entire palace that someone was sneaking around.

But they had far more problems with thieves since they announced their magical collection of jewels a few years back than just Pansy. She'd waited for the fools to make their attempts, see their mistakes, learn from their faults, and then she had gone in and gotten the biggest, most famous magical diamond that their world had ever seen. Only to lose it down the drain in an earthquake in China.

If she had been able to sell it for the price her buyers had agreed on, she would have been set for life. But China had been crawling with magical folk, all looking for answers as to why magic was so… uncertain lately. When she arrived for the first meeting, immediately the setup was obvious. Most people were of the opinion that they needed to band together and work for a way to fix Magic. There was no time for a solo spellthief passing through and committing crimes.

Pansy didn't share that opinion. As far as she was concerned, for far too long witches and wizards had used magic to take advantage of other magical folk, creatures, and the Muggles too. She might have been one of those people at one time, but she knew when to admit she had been wrong.

Magic seemed to be dying, fading away, and instead of trying to fix the problems in their community, the Ministry of Magic was dicking around, fighting about whether or not to consider werewolves sentient beings or not. It didn't surprise Pansy one bit that magic eluded some people now. They were trying to avoid another Dark Lord by limiting education and keeping the people divided.

There was a reason she preferred Southern France. Still… being able to cash in that diamond would have helped with her current problem. But it was for the best, she thought as she fingered her undetectable pocket absentmindedly. The diamond was far too well known to turn around and sell. Her identity would have eventually became known and she didn't trust anyone enough to sell the diamond for her.

Nothing to be done about it now though, she thought, focusing on her situation. She had a decision to make and a plant to steal and just an inkling of an idea on how to do it. She slipped off the property as quietly as she arrived and thought about where she could buy Quick Sleep Dust.

oOo

The Full Moon came and went, and by all reports the revels were the usual mess. He asked a friend of his to attend and see if could get any intel, knowing full well the danger it might bring to Hal. But Hal was a wolf, and more… he was a tough son of a bitch, more than capable of taking care of himself. And he owed Neville.

The problem was it would take a few days for Hal to recover, the price of the transformation so significant. The revels only amplified that pain. He had been over the reports hundreds of times. Neville knew what went down during those night hours with the moon overhead. Egging the families on. Being a wolf didn't automatically make you violent, it didn't make you a monster.

But it was a powder keg personality, add in the crowd mentality, and the special way the families had about them… as if their conscience had melted to stone long ago… and you got the revels. They didn't care if they destroyed property or hurt the innocent. Add in bonfires and booze, they became a mob. Roaming the countrysides until the moon turned them into their other halves and then they became murders.

It made it difficult for some people to see wolves as anything else. But Neville knew some wolves that were as delicate as a flower, as calm as a cucumber. They were professors and shop owners and they were just looking to be considered part of humanity.

He wouldn't hold Hal accountable for anything that might have happened during his recon, but the desperation and helplessness he felt at the prospect of finding another body was riding him hard today. He had promises to keep, to himself, and to the families of the victims. A promise to never give up until the killer was found and brought to justice.

It was two days after the moon and if the pattern followed suit, a body would be found very soon. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop, and all he wanted to do was find Hal and see if he found any information that could lead him to… anything. Because even with as many victims found, Neville couldn't find a single to connection to each other or the families.

So he sat on the bench in the workout room at the Auror Training Facility and attempted to curb the pain in his muscles by lifting weights while the mantra of names played through his head.

"Thought I might find you down here."

"Hermione." She sat next to him and handed him a towel, a large bowl of cereal in her other hand. "Oooh the good stuff."

"Oh yes, my parents would murder me if they knew the amount of sugary cereal I've been eating lately." She said, balancing the bowl on the swell of her belly. She dug in with relish.

"You only come down here when you're angry." he said, wiping the sweat off his face.

"Nonsense."

"Was it Harry or Ron?"

"It was the doting of my loving husband, if you must know. But I also knew you'd probably want a little company."

"I don't get to say this often, but you're wrong Hermione."

"No I'm not, you just think you want to be alone. And I'm taking a break from my ward weaving."

She crunched away at her double frosted sugary cereal with loud slurps of her milk in between and all the while he could almost hear her telling him some positive mush she liked to sprout off. Like how he's working as hard as he can and eventually he was going to get a break on this case. Blah blah. That's what she told him the week before, and the weeks before that. He couldn't count the number of times she would find him down here, especially since his 'accident', trying to pound out his anger and frustrations. Yet, no matter how tough things got, she always managed to be the bright voice in their group.

Ron made them laugh and kept them fed, Harry gave them hope, Connor kept them going, and Bobbi managed everything, but Hermione was the sunny voice of reason. He wished she had been around during Auror Training. But then again, maybe not. He wished she were gone now. There was a countdown in the back of his mind.

"It might be the pregnancy hormones, or maybe I feeling a bit tilted lately, but I feel like something big is about to happen and I want you to keep your head up."

"A premonition?" he teased.

She snorted, the gesture unladylike. "Hardly. It's just a… slight hum beneath the skin. Anticipation."

Then it was his turn to snort, "I could have told you that -"

"LB."

He looked up as Connor walked into the room, a stocky wizard with a crooked smile and mocha dark skin. He had made a place for himself in the Auror program and stuck there, his bossy personality fitting in perfectly.

Usually, Neville would be happy to see his friend. Today he knew the bad tidings Connor would be bringing, and it made him rage. "Fuck."

oOo

"Hermione thinks she can put up a ward on The Fern. It would be limited, but she assures me it'll keep anyone out."

"How's she feeling?" Harry asked Ron, as they threw a ball back and forth. Most of the office had gone home, but a few remained behind working on their cases or paperwork. It was all a bit slower without the total aid of magic, but where it could help it was used.

"She's fine thank you very much, and don't you dare ask her that question unless you want your head ripped off for showing even a touch of concern." Ron replied.

"Wouldn't dream of it but that's good. I don't think the Fern is in danger, not yet."

"Where the hell is Neville?'

"I don't know, he asked us to meet him here."

"I'm here." Neville said, stepping into his office, arms loaded with the newly printed pictures.

He slammed the pin into his board, his insides churning. Another victim, a witch, dumped on the out of the way street on the outskirts of London. Her body mauled and violated just like the others.

Ron leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed as Harry began to pace in front of the desk. Neville barely contained the anger riding him, his fist curling as he took in the new picture. Her dark hair was cut short, her fingernails colored a bright poison red. And her golden brown skin was torn and shredded, the flesh across her face disfigured and bloody red. "How is it possible no one saw the dump? We have eyes on that street."

"Conner said the body just _appeared_. And I want to know how? Magic doesn't work on that side of the city anymore." Neville snapped. "And dead bodies can't Apparate."

Harry played his Head Auror Badge through his hands as he read the file opened on the desk.

"There were no wolves in the area, we had several men stationed there and the surrounding blocks." Ron provided the information in his usually gruff voice. "I have Connor and his partner working to identify her, until then…"

"Excuse me, Mr. Longbottom? This came through the urgent channels for you." An office aide walked into the room handing him a file.

"Thanks." he said taking it from her with measured control. He threw it on the desk after the witch had gone, turning his attention back to the board. "Once we get her name, I'll try to find a connection to the other victims. But so far, there isn't one."

"Uh Nev-"

"If I could just find a connection to one member of the families, get a legitimate reason to haul them in for questioning…"

"Nev!"

"Maybe I can get them to talk on Barton-"

"NEVILLE!"

"What?!" he turned to his friends, hands out.

"Look…" Ron pointed to the file on his desk. The one he discarded.

"Oh fuck." he picked up the sheet that fell loose. "I don't have time for this shit!"

Ron grabbed the paper he slammed down, read over the file quickly before bursting into laughter.

"I can't believe you're laughing! This is a serious case!" Neville bellowed, turning back to the board. He slammed his fists into the wall on either side. "I can't be distracted right now! I'm up to my ears in work!"

Ron handed the paper over to Harry, who read it and smiled. "I told her not to come back."

"Like she listens… ever. That would be day. She's the most annoying, loud mouth, obnoxious, conniving -"

Ron leaned closer to Harry as Neville continued his rant. "5 Galleons says they bang this time."

"-insane, vulgar, hellion of a witch-"

"No way, those two are due." Harry said, watching Neville rant.

"-no morals, no standards-"

"Actually… You're on. He's way too pissed."

They shook hands.

"-craziest bitch I've ever come across!"

"Tell us how you really feel, Nev." Ron chuckled.

"I'm going to arrest her this time!" Neville shouted, grabbing his badge and a pair of handcuffs from the drawer. He slipped his wand under his belt on his back and put his jacket on.

"For what? She hasn't committed a crime that we know of." Harry stated.

"Yet." Neville said, walking out of the door with sure steps. "Ron, tell Hermione to get that ward ready!"

"How do you even know where she is?!"

"Because I _saw her_ the other day. At The Conservatory!"

oOo

She braided her hair tight to the back of her head, out of the way and cleanly off her shoulders. She dressed in her leather jumpsuit, the black sleek along her body. The leather tucked into her trusty boots where she had a dagger hidden away, the belt on her waist concealed a thin wire and a second, smaller dagger. Her wand holster slotted into the back of her top, against her bare skin. Her cuffs went on next, one with a small vial of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, the other with her picks and a Freeze Fast Potion. She put her favorite dagger on her hip holster and zipped the front up over the black of her bra.

Leather sure did make her feel sexy as hell. She tested the tightness by doing a quick stretch, then slid her matching leather sash over her shoulder. A healing potion, an extra Freeze Fast, and a Mana Bomb went into the slots hidden from sight. She slid her arms through the sleeves of her jacket and pulled the hood up around her face.

In her pockets she held six packets of Quick Sleep Dust, a single speck in the eye and it's night-night for at least 6 hours. She was expecting five guards, she had an extra packet in case there was more. She wouldn't be caught unawares, not tonight. Her plan was simple, dust the guards before they saw her, grab The Fern, and hightail it out as quickly as possible. The late hour would provide extra cover. And the skies were clear tonight, no snow to hinder her movement.

Hopefully by morning, The Fern would be in Daphne's hands and she would be on her way to see Pearl, a bag of money big enough to buy her sister and get the hell out of dodge. That was the goal. She kept that in mind, making herself focus, channeling herself. Preparing.

Then she took out her wand and Apparated to The Conservatory without hesitation.

Her feet hit the forested ground, and she took a quick look around before making her way through the trees to the edge of grass she had slowly become so familiar with. As before, the outdoor walkways were clear of any patrol, and the moment she stepped past a certain line she felt the temperature raise to a more comfortable degree. She spent ten minutes waiting patiently by the door, looking at the guards by the hallway and allowing the extra time for her picks to recognize if any wards had been placed since her last visit.

But they remained silent in her cuffs.

The guards didn't move, so she moved further down closer to the hothouse area and raised her fist, banging on the window three times. As a shadow, she made her way back to the door and slipped in quickly. Dust the guards, grab The Fern, hightail it out of there.

The two guards by the door had stepped through the ballroom to where her knocks had originated but her boots were silent as she ran up behind them, one hand in her pocket crushing a baggie of Quick Sleep Dust in her palm. The left guard was a touch closer so she reach out to the right and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey there." she said in a bright, bubbly voice.

They turned quick, their wands out in preparation, but she had her hand out and blew the dust into their eyes. They slumped immediately into sleep but she was already dashing towards the hallway. She jumped over the velvet cord and reached for another packet, holding it tight. A third guard was at a door, just as she thought. He saw her the moment she jumped the cord, and took out his wand. He swished and flicked and red sparks flew at her, his magic completely unaffected. She dodged them and the second spell he wordlessly threw at her, jumping low and swinging out her leg as soon as she was close enough. The move knocked him on his behind, his wand falling to the ground. She kicked it down the hallway and went to break a packet over his eyes before he could move, but he rolled away and up onto his feet.

His fists curled and he rushed at her the moment he found his footing. She dodged his first punch, then the second, and threw her fist into his jaw. He grabbed her arm and spun her around, attempting to immobilize her by caging her neck

with his arms, her back pressed to his chest. She grabbed his wrist with her right hand, and shifted to the right, bringing her left elbow up and smashing it into his nose. His arms loosened, she escaped his hold, still holding tight to his wrist and spinning around, she yanked on his arm and he stumbled into her knee as she brought it up and rammed it into his face. He stumbled backwards, clutching at his nose and she used to the moment to break a packet from her pocket, blowing the dust into his eyes. The yellow dust glinted as it scattered in his face and he fell to the ground, sound asleep.

Dust the guards… check.

Three down and three packets remaining, she paused just by the doorway, listening into the room the guard had stood by. She heard no movement and slowly peeked around the corner. She spotted no other guards, only a large room full of old office supplies. Desks and chairs stacked up, boxes on boxes, racks on racks. And right in the middle, sitting on a small pedestal… was The Fern.

Her breath calm, she took a second to pay attention to her picks. They sensed no wards. The next second she spent searching for any traps. And finally she laughed a bit as she stepped into the room and grabbed the potted plant with both hands. Grab The Fern… check.

Only thing left was to hightail it…

"I knew it!"

She turned on her toe, one hand on the plant and the other going to her dagger. Her previously calm heartbeat skyrocketed. "Neville Longbottom, as I live and breathe."

His black jacket clung to his shoulders, his golden Auror Badge at his hip, his wand pointed right at her, handcuffs hanging from his back pocket. She had to admit, he looked damn sexy even as he scowled with rage at her. "Put the plant down and then put your hands in the air, Pansy Parkinson. You're under arrest!"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** I can't believe I'm saying this, but thank goodness the holiday's are over. Happy New Year everyone! This is your **VIOLENCE** warning. Remember I said this fic was going to get ultra violent. Just don't read on if you can't handle it.

* * *

Chapter Four

(Parkinson vs Longbottom, Round: 2139)

There was something alive about this city, she realized. It had an unfamiliar pulse that beat a steady rhythm against her heart, but it wasn't painful. It made her feel included, alive. The city sucked her in and she allowed it, because where else could she go?

Theo fit in like a native, and it had bugged her the first week of their trip. The city was trying to adopt her, and there he was making her feel like some country girl. Of course, she powered through insecurities worse than thinking she didn't belong in a city full of tourists. They came to Spain to escape, she had to give it a chance.

Still, she was bugged. His accent wasn't out of place and it took them to all the best places to eat, dimly lit restaurants where they could lounge for hours, talking and eating fresh seafood and drinking the local wine. Or during the day he would lead her down La Ramblas where they could sit outside and watch the Muggles, listen to the street musicians, watch the sun light up the city and its residents. He knew stall vendors by name and wine sellers by reputation.

He knew the dirty words that made her blush after she'd had too much wine.

The nightlife quickly became her favorite part of the city, a never ending party that flowed from venue to venue where she met new people that didn't know her name and didn't care where she was from. Rooftops strung with lights or pulsating underground clubs, it didn't matter. They went from party to party, drinking and carefree and far, far away from their dysfunctional families and war torn homeland. The people here weren't shy. They bought them drinks and kissed their cheeks and Pansy happily returned the favor, dancing like the young witch she dreamed to be.

After a few days, she wasn't so angry with Theo anymore, especially when he took her to the beach and let her soak the summer sun into her skin, chasing the seemingly permanent cold away. All the while he had looked at her with that little smile of his, the one only she saw. Everyday after that followed the same pattern, late mornings where they woke up slowly and lazed around in their robes until they eventually got dressed and strolled down lively streets, shopping and eating and finding a shady cafe to read and drink coffees in peace. Then spending the night drinking and dancing and meeting new people.

They planned to stay at Theo's Spanish house for two weeks before heading off to other destinations: Marseilles, Milan, Venice, then north to Vienna and Prague. That had been the plan. But two weeks turned into four, which turned into a few months. The others went on without them, and then it was just Pansy and Theodore.

And eventually her hurt mellowed into a harsh but distant memory, her fear settled and she found herself trusting Theo when he held her close and whispered into her ear that she was safe. That they were safe. She didn't have to distract Amycus from the little girls anymore, or use her magic to hurt those so much smaller than her. She didn't have to lock herself in her dorm with the other girls and pretend everything was okay. She didn't have to do anything she didn't want to do.

And the best part was the distance Pansy had put between herself and her mother.

"We could stay here forever." Theo said, his arms long and lean like the rest of him. They curled tight around her, hands buried in her hair, her face resting against his soft neck and she believed him. Safe and warm, living a summer dream. They became true lovers and he told her everyday that she was safe and everyday she believed him.

She shouldn't have.

oOo

"Under arrest? You're welcome to try." she smiled and her tone didn't betray the tremble of truth underneath. Frustration. Irritated as hell that out of all the Aurors to run into, Neville Longbottom had to be the one but her skin hummed with anticipation anyways. He wasn't like the other mindless morons in the department, relying on their wands and their badges to keep them and others safe.

Nope. Longbottom had skills, basic self defense classes aside, he could fight. And that was an in demand skill these days with Magic so unreliable. Any fight between them would be close to even and, let's face it, it was so much more fun when he chased her. It had taken her some time to figure that one out, that she enjoyed running from Auror Longbottom almost as much as she enjoyed out running him. Almost.

"Give it your best shot." she taunted him and felt smug satisfaction as his expression grew with rage and his fists clenched.

After spending a night with Theo awhile back, she had come to the startling realization that even after spending their whole lives together, Theo was a little afraid of her. They trusted each other, had been friends since nappies, and he most likely wouldn't let it get between them. They had even been lovers in truth once.

But after that night, she had seen the briefest flicker of fear cross his face as she had gone through her warm up routine, Theo's place a safe space that she could practice in as long as no one knew she was there. She wondered when it started… Spain? Or later, when she started going to Muggle trainers, tai chi and judo she figured out worked best with her small size. Then she found Antonio, a wizard from the states that had muscle on muscle and not from any trainer or time spent in a gym. He was a fighter with an intense dislike for men for beat up on women smaller than themselves. Pansy clung to him like the lifeline he was and she learned as she grew strong.

Tony's opinion that violence was to be utilized only to protect others rubbed off on Pansy, but seeing that flicker of fear in Theo's eyes had changed something inside her. It only served to add to her rage but Theo was a beaten up puppy underneath his skin, so she buried it. The next time she had seen Draco, she watched for the same look, for any sign that indicated he had fear for the person she had become. She buried that too.

That same month, she lifted the Star Crystal Ball for an eclectic collector and was just about to escape when she found herself triggering an alarm and rushing through the quaint magical town with contraband in her bag and Neville Longbottom hot on her heels. He hadn't been afraid of her.

He wasn't afraid now either, just pissed the fuck off.

"You are under arrest for the attempted robbery of Ministry property, put the plant down slowly, and put your fucking hands in the air." he said again, his wand steady and ready, an old fashioned walkie-talkie on his shoulder. His too-wide lips pressed into an angry thin line and she felt the urge to poke fun of him rise to the surface.

"First of all, no. And second of all, no. Move your ugly mug out of my way Longbottom, I've got places to be."

"You're resisting?" he asked, taking a step forward. And he sounded as if that's exactly what he wanted. The tension in his shoulders made her think they were both spoiling for a fight. The muscles in his thighs shifted under his dark jeans as he moved and she couldn't help but follow the sexy movement with her eyes. Groaning inwardly, she thought they looked almost as good as his shoulders. After this job, she was going to need a seriously hard training session with Tony to work out her sexual tension before she did something extremely idiotic like find Neville Longbottom attractive in any way. She looked to his face again, wetting her lips, and focused her energies on the fight they were both preparing to engage in. It would be fun, she prayed.

He was the enemy, he was ugly as a Gryffindor, and she had hated his guts. Beating him up was exactly what she wanted. Beating him up and then getting away with her bounty? Even better.

Tempted to tease, she instead said, "Always." And because she was so nice, she gave him what he wanted. She resisted arrest the best way she knew how. She threw the plant right at his face, knowing he would be more concerned of the rare Fern that everyone was all up in arms about. He stepped back to catch it, his wand dropping as she hoped. He caught the plant with both hands and an impassioned swear. But she was already vaulting through the air, her free hand braced on the ground as she flipped over, her feet kicking out and hitting him in the face as she moved. She landed a bare second later, her knife hand on her dagger, razing out with a whip of speed.

But he was already gone, her dagger slashing through thin air. Draco's voice sounded in the back of her mind, telling her to be quiet, get in and out and Don't. Get. Arrested. But her skin wanted contact, her fingers itching to draw blood. Would it be so terrible if she roughed up her least favorite Auror a bit before she grabbed the plant and left? Hell no.

She didn't hesitate, rushing at his solid body before he could find his fallen wand. She forced him to dodge her attacks, three quick swipes with her dagger before her other hand came up and grabbed his swinging hand. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, all her strength going into stopping the punch. But his arm didn't stop, instead her entire body got pushed back by the force of his fist. It was… supernatural…

A strangled "huh?" escaped her mouth at the sheer oddity of the split second that didn't make sense - because it should not have happened - and in her distraction his other hand came in full strength against her jaw. Her head swung around. She thought her neck was broken. Surely she was dead?

Physically, she had been a fighter for so long she understood the physics of it. What happened should not have happened. But she couldn't think on it… Stars. He hit her so hard, she literally saw stars dancing in her vision. Releasing his wrist, she stumbled back and tried to reorient herself. "Strength-" she panted. " -Potion?" She wanted to vomit, she'd never been hit that hard before.

Her vision didn't clear right away, but she sensed his larger form coming in again and while everything else might have been fuzzy and blood dripped slow and hot from her lip, she knew one thing for certain. She absolutely could not take another hit like that again.

"Something like that." he answered, swinging again. She rolled away without grace, stumbling painfully into the disorderly stacks of chairs to her right. The first stack tipped over into the second, which tipped into the third which fell into a large box of what must have been glasses creating a huge, loud mess. Not to be distracted, she hopped up and shook her head, her vision finally clearing even as her ears rang.

"Honestly Longbottom? You need an upper to fight me? I'm flattered." she spit blood on the floor between them and then they were moving towards each other, arms swinging. Her dagger slashed through the air with wicked speed, just missing as he moved from her attacks.

"It wasn't for you-" he growled, his face pinched in concentration as he attempted to contain her by locking his arms around her.

She was far too fast for that. "Trying to-" she wheezed as he landed a punch to her ribs, _fuck it hurt!_ "-impress a girl?"

"Hardly-" he swung backwards as her dagger came within an inch of his face. "-have time to do anything when I'm so busy chasing your sorry ass down!" His arm came up to grab at her extended arm, his other hand coming to knock her dagger from her hand. In a flash, she turned in a move she knew no one, especially Longbottom, would expect, twisting her arm almost painfully behind her but straightening her limb as she turned. Then she leaned forward with her whole body and brought her hand through his arms, her dagger slashing a cut deep in his hand as she did.

"Fuck!"

She danced out of the way, satisfied at the rush of blood dripping steadily from his hand. Draco's voice sounded in her head again, _get in, get out. Quiet!_ "Sounds like you're spending a lot of your time thinking about me, Longbottom!" she laughed, her eyes going to the plant she had come for. Neville had somehow set it down on a tall stack of old newspapers where it seemed to wink at her, the pale green leaves illuminated by the hall light.

"Thinking about throwing you into a cell where you belong!" he bellowed at her, cradling his hand as he stepped back, their fight paused for now. "Fuck - cold - fuck -" But it put him right by his fallen wand.

"Ooo. Kinky." she said and darted for the plant, grabbing it with her quick fingers.

She expected him to grab his wand, but she knew she could run and get out of the room before he had time to cast even a nonverbal in her direction, distracted as he was by what was surely a painful slash on his hand.

Instead she heard him yelling, "Now! Raise it now!"

There seemed to be a heave in the air and her ward picks came alive with an electric zing across her wrists a bare moment before she would have run through the doorway. But she was running full tilt, as fast as she could, and there was no time to turn back -

 _SPLAT!_

Groaning, she peeled herself slowly from the doorway, where an invisible barrier had quite literally formed in front of her stopping her in her tracks. Dazed for the second time, she attempted to take inventory of herself. Pain bloomed across her body and her immediate thought had been of an automobile accident she witnessed in Italy, where the traffic laws were merely suggestions. One car had cut off another, causing it to swing into a third which ran off the road and straight into a brick wall of a line of shops. That car hadn't been going very fast at all, and yet the impact had the car folded in on itself.

She felt like that car looked.

Her body screamed. Broken nose, her jaw felt unhinged, and she could feel the hollow ache that told her her front would be bruised from top to bottom. Her right knee tweaked with pain and she felt a deep cut on her forehead. But that didn't matter. Not one bit.

The Fern had been cradled in front of her body.

As she took a short step back attempting to draw breath, which somehow took all her concentration, the pot crumbled from her hands into a million pieces, dirt and leaves falling to the ground as the plant fell apart except for the bundle of roots that had been at the center.

"Shit!" She stumbled back shouting profanities and fell into strong arms when her knee gave out.

"What did you do!?"

They both said it, somehow, in the same shocked tone as they gazed downwards. Her fingers cradled the battered plant as bits of dirt continued to shake loose and fall to the ground.

"Oh no - no - no!" he mumbled, awkwardly cupping her fingers with his own as she desperately attempted to hold The Fern in one piece.

"What did you do?!" they said it again. "Stop copying me!" - "I could strangle you Parkinson!"

"Strangle me!? This is your fault!" she gestured to the warded door with her other hand, and immediately regretted it. She brought her wrist up to her eyes, spotted the swollen tendon and the odd bump that told her her arm was broken. "Fuck!" She _was_ that car.

"Be careful!" he shouted in her ear.

"Now you're worried about me? It's a little late for that, Longbottom!"

"I'm not worried about you, you idiot! The plant, take care with the plant!"

Lying on the floor, surrounded by broken glass and the mess they'd made, with her head against his chest wasn't making her feel better at all, she needed the spare Heal Potion she brought with her, but she didn't want to let go of the plant and her other hand was useless. "Why the hell do you even care about this thing?!"

His livid eyes turned on her then, their heads suddenly closer and she realized he smelled like the cologne Jac wore, the scent one she had never figured out. Something cheap, common. Disgusting. The one she wished she could eliminate from the earth. Pungent, and bitter. It threw her back into her private hell and the smell of burnt magic filled her nostrils before she could steel herself against it...

"You're trying to lift The Fern and you don't even know what it does?!" he yelled at her but she didn't hear it, didn't hear what he said afterwards either. She was no longer having fun. She didn't care about fighting anymore. She enraged, sent back in time by the scent of Jac's cologne, and she wanted to kill. She threw the broken plant to the side with little care and in the same motion formed a fist that she threw into Neville's nose. Being under him where she'd fallen gave her undeniable leverage to put as much behind the punch as she could, and they both felt it.

 _Berserker._

Another moment and she was off the floor, her left hand smoothly bringing out a spare dagger from her boot as she rose, before going at him with untamed fury. Leather stretched over skin, air pumped through her lungs, and she gave in to the uncontrollable frenzy that erased all hints of her physical pain and pushed her rage to the front. Her attacks moved them around the room, circling the alter The Fern originally stood on until she cornered him by the door. She beat the ever living shit out of him and didn't have the clarity of mind to save any of her energy.

Blood flew through the air with every swing, be it from where she landed a blow on his person or from her own hand breaking under the sheer force she was swinging with. He was on the defensive, but she could have been swinging at a brick wall for all the good it did. Her control was in shreds. She had let Draco, and then later Theo, push her over into anger, let her desperation and insanity over her Mother push her into taking this job and didn't do the right research into it. She saw the amount of guards on the bounty and did it anyway, even caught a glimpse of Longbottom at the location and still... she went for it.

It was this fucking country, it got under her skin.

"Neville!" - a voice she didn't realize she recognized. But it didn't break through her haze.

"Shit!" Distracted, Longbottom dodged her deadly attack, stumbling backwards as her dagger slashed through the air a mere inch from his face, but he did not dodge the second attack from her offhand, the smaller knife came into play, sinking through skin between two of his right side ribs. The knife was far too small to do any real damage, but it was enough. His voice pulled her closer to the edge of sanity somehow, and she felt all at once her body screaming at her to take back control or else she was done for. She took control the only way she knew how, kicking his knee out as he went to pull the knife from his torso. It clanged loudly against the hard floor but it was too late, her dagger pressed against his throat as he landed on his knees, his back towards her.

"Don't move," she warned, breath haggard. She gripped his hair with one hand, tilting his head back to her, as she held her dagger flush against the skin of his neck. "I'm faster than you, and my hands are steady."

He raised both his hands in the air to signal surrender, but she wasn't satisfied. "What cologne are you wearing?" she asked, her eyes going from the terrified face of Hermione Granger standing just beyond the invisible wall to Neville's impassive face.

He blinked, confused, surely not expecting that question. "What?"

"What cologne are you wearing, Longbottom?" she pushed the blade of her dagger a fraction of an inch deeper into his throat.

"Okay - okay - uh - fucking hell, it's called Quoram… I think."

"Thanks." she tugged at his hair harshly, enjoyed watching him wince, then looked up to the terrified witch on the other side of the door. "Lower the ward and allow me to leave with The Fern or else the Auror Department will be hiring tomorrow."

"I -" the witch gulped, grabbed her swollen pregnant belly. "I can't, something went wrong. Please don't hurt him."

"Magic misbehaving?"

"Neville I'm so sorry - I thought you were clear of the room!"

"It's alright Hermione." Neville said through clenched teeth.

"Oh yeah _, Hermione._ It's all good. You accidentally put a timer on the ward, didn't you?" Pansy mocked but her hand remained steady and sure.

"How did you know?"

"It snapped into place too fast. How long until it comes down?"

"I'm not sure…" Hermione bit her lip, unsure and panicked.

Below her, Longbottom groaned. "You're trapped in here with me Longbottom, lucky you." she whispered into his ear.

"I'd rather die."

"Oh that's a bit dramatic, aren't you having even a little bit of fun?"

"Neville!" another voice, this one she recognized right away. "What-"

Harry Potter, Head Auror, nearly ran his friend over as he skidded to a stop in the small hallway right outside Pansy and Neville's battle zone. She prepared to negotiate with the famous wizard, because she sure as shit wasn't getting on another boat this time. Not without what she came for.

Instead he said, "What is that?" and pointed.

The four of them followed his finger, and Pansy didn't understand what she was seeing. Now that she saw it… A soft hum, pitch perfect, seemed to resonate gently as the delicate jewel green leaves of the most magnificent and beautiful plant she had ever laid her eyes on floated gently in a dirty tank of water, the outside glass splattered with blood. The small, blooded knife she'd used on Neville lay next to the glass but it didn't take away from its sheer beauty. Curls of emerald colored vines and ethereal white blossoms bounced gently between the bright leaves, the shade of green so attractive she couldn't take her eyes away from it.

Peace. Peace like she had never known before settled the rage, brought other softer emotions to the front instead. Like her love for Posy. Like how she missed Theo and Tory. She wanted to put a record on and sing along, wanted to eat chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and dance the night away. She had been a fighter for so long, she'd forgotten what it was like to just be Pansy.

The peace burrowed deeper into her heart and everything else faded to the background.

She thought of her Papa and, for the first time since his death, didn't hurt with grief.

"It's The Fern!" Granger said a moment later, breaking the spell the plant held sway over them. She blinked, confused and hollow.

"It's a water fern…" Neville mumbled in awe and her rage snapped back into place.

And that's when Pansy realized she had dropped her dagger from his throat.

He realized it too, and they moved at the same time. His arm came up to block any attack before she could make it, their bodies colliding painfully, and the movement caused her remaining dust packets to fall from her pocket, to the ground with little pops as the material around the dust came undone. Golden yellow dust floated up into the air, held off by the ward on the door. She tried to blink her eyes closed, but the taste of warm honey filled her mouth and she felt instantly sleepy.

The last thing she remembered was reaching out her hand towards Longbottom as he fell to the ground, sound asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

(Where Pansy dances for Neville and Neville places a bet)

Pansy came to with a jolt, her hand out as if swinging with her dagger. But her dagger was not in her hand and her hand was not working correctly. It wasn't working at all. Her entire body stung and ached, and in an instant she recalled why.

"Car crash…" she said to herself, patting her leather down as she surveyed the room. Her good hand came up to her face and she winced. Dried blood crusted the side of her face and her lip felt swollen to twice its normal size but what really bothered her was the ache in her arm and wrist. She could have used her uninjured arm to unhook her potion sash and reach for the heal potion she had, but the pain cleared her head faster. She slowly stretched her injured hand and gasped as she felt bones shift in and out of place.

Bones weren't supposed to do that.

She did it again. Tony always said she was a little unhinged anyways.

Her fingers played with the sash as she looked to her other side. Longbottom lay in a heap by her, his face bloody and battered - her work most definitely - but his fingers were firmly gripped around her upper arm, as if even in his sleep he was trying to catch her. His shoulders stretched beneath his black jacket, and the next instant her fingers were brushing against his nearest shoulder without any idea how they got there.

"You're awake."

Her eyes rose to meet Harry Potter's, his arm braced against the frame of the small doorway and his gaze full of worry as he looked at this sleeping friend. Ah… the ward was still up. Strange, but it made sense. Why else would she still be at The Conservatory? She had _felt_ Granger's ward, the natural magic of the area had aided it, Pansy was sure. Neither of those two good-doers could get in to help their friend and drag her off to a cell while they slept. Lucky. She was so lucky, because this job had gone to absolute _shit_ and if her head had been in the right place she would have told Daphne to stuff it.

Still, she wondered how the Aurors had known she was coming? There were no wards before Granger raised the one on the door, and she hadn't spotted a single recording devices of any kind when she did her stake out.

Then the pain gave her a bit of clarity, because the Aurors hadn't known she was coming. But _Longbottom_ had. As planned, she'd caught the stationed guards unaware. And it was far too dangerous to attempt Apparation these days, so Longbottom had already been on his way when she first arrived. _He'd been tipped off._

Swearing, she moved her arm closer to her sash and the pain became too much. She fiddled with the leather straps and the reddish colored potion bottle fell into her hand an instant later.

"Very good, Potter." She popped the cork from the tiny bottle, chugging down the heal potion without looking away from the Head Auror. He seemed to struggle on what to say next.

"Why did you wake up before him?" he asked finally.

"I'm better than him." she responded immediately, though most likely it was the pain from their battle that woke her before Longbottom. It was hard to sleep when your body was in pain. Her watch told her it was just before midnight, meaning she'd only been out for a few hours at most. Granger's ward had simultaneously gotten her caught and saved her from being caught. Strangle. This job just kept getting stranger and stranger.

She felt a sizzle of magic well up in her blood, spreading out through her chest, fading in strength as it made a beeline for the places she needed the most attention. Bone knit together in her arm, then wrist and she gave it a cautionary stretch. Much, much better. She stood and shook off Longbottom's clammy grip. Out came the odd twinge of pain, but it was better already she thought, reaching into a pocket for her compact which she opened and brought to her face. Her reflection showed the inches long cut on her head, slowly shrinking but it was bigger than she thought. It showed ugly brown and blue bruises fading and her swollen lip returning to its normal size, which was good. But the cut looked bad.

"Warn me next time he decides to use a fucking strength potion against me," she snapped at the Head Auror as she ran her fingers against her jaw. She might have been a little salty at how badly she'd been beaten up. Or that klutzy Longbottom somehow managed to bring them both down with _her_ Quick Sleep Dust. Either way, her jaw still hurt from that first punch she'd taken despite the Healing potion doing its best to fix her.

Potter made an impatient sound. "I've watched one of my best friends bleeding out, _unconscious_ for almost three hours now and you're snapping at me and checking your make-up?"

She ignored him, reaching behind her head and grabbing her wand by the hilt. She took it from its holster against her spine and with a gentle wave, concentrated on healing the large cut across her forehead. A healing stream of magic popped and fizzled frantically in sparking purples, jutting out in uneven waves and landing on her cut sharply. Magic didn't used to hurt. Why did it have to hurt now? "Ouch - ouch - ouch-"

"C'mon." He was frustrated, his hand forming a fist against the door frame.

"He's breathing, calm down." Not unexpectedly, her magic cut out with a loud snap and left the cut on her head halfway healed and still hurting like a bitch. She snapped her compact shut and hid it away, and finally knelt beside Longbottom. She searched through his pockets first, hoping to get a rise out of Potter.

"You do realize I can see you right?" Potter snapped, getting angrier by the second. She resisted the urge to smile, mostly because her jaw ached something fierce, but satisfaction made her hum. "I can literally see you."

"Do something about it then," she dared him, continuing her search. He banged a hand on the invisible wall and made a rude sound. The knife wound she had inflicted on poor Neville Longbottom had bled out a bit, but it looked far worse than it actually was. She didn't immediately see any other wounds. While Potter mumbled swear words under his breath, she pulled out Longbottom's wallet, spare change, a balled up note from his jeans pocket.

"If he dies because of you-"

"He's not going to die, Sweet Slytherin don't get your panties in a twist Potter."

She wasn't worried about him, not that she would admit to being worried about either of these two men, but she was stuck in this room with Longbottom not Potter. One of the most famous Duelists in the world, she wouldn't dare go wand to wand with Harry Potter. Even with Magic in a rut as it was, no one would be that stupid. But in a physical fight? There was no contest. Neville on the other hand… she thought her jaw would ache until next week the way it was currently feeling.

Quick Sleep Dust usually put you out for around 6 hours, or longer if nothing woke you up. She'd been out for around 3 hours… another 3 and Longbottom's strength potion would surely have worn out by then, meaning she could most likely handle him better in a fight. Still, she didn't want anymore surprises.

She pocketed his items for later, and ran her hands along his jacket searching for any more pockets. The leather was good quality and she wondered if he had bought it for himself or if it had been a gift. If he'd managed to scrap enough gold together then his taste in clothes had definitely been improving in the years since she'd last seen him. But then again… A gift, she decided after remembering the red and green plaid sweater vest he wore a few years back. She remembered the mustard stain on the front.

She found a well used notepad and a small flip phone in the inside pocket of his jacket and found herself impressed. Longbottom was catching up with the times unlike the rest of their community. These she also stashed away in her pockets to look at later before she pushed Longbottom's jacket off his shoulders and pulled his torn buttoned up shirt over his head.

"I'll heal him," she said to Potter as she revealed the stab wound on Longbottom's torso. It wasn't bleeding any longer, would heal just fine on its own with a little time… but it would probably hurt like a bitch. "For a price."

"Money? You're joking."

"Not money, idiot." She twirled her wand around her fingers and gave him her best _look_.

"You think I'd let you walk out of here, is that what you're asking for?"

"Of course."

"Absolutely not!"

"I could kill him." she said on the tail end of his exclamation, continuing to twirl her wand around between her fingers. "You wouldn't be able to stop me."

He struggled with that one for a minute before his brilliant green eyes turned sharp. "Don't make empty threats."

"I'll do it." she lied so convincingly she almost believed herself.

"No you won't, because if you do your chances of actually walking out of here alive become non existent."

"True, but your friend would still be dead. Plus, Potter, you owe me. Do me a solid."

He actually snorted. "I owe you? How do you figure?"

She pointed with her whole hand to the corner where the Fern continued to float gracefully in its dirty tank of water. It seemed to perk up at the attention, the vines bouncing happily like a gurgling baby. "I did that. No one knew what that ugly thing did until I threw it in some water. Now look at it. It's beautiful! Singing even!"

"You - you were the one trying to steal it in the first place!"

She shrugged dramatically. "Aren't you glad! Look what I discovered. You can name the bloody thing after me if you want. Whatever! Let's call it even. No harm, no foul!"

"No harm?!"

"No _lasting_ harm, Potter. See? Watch." and she wielded her wand, turning it to Longbottom's wound. Again, magic sparked and sputtered but it worked. Thankfully. She tried to ignore the swell of power she felt, tried not to let it go to her head. But she had to concentrate to heal the wound, and it felt good. "See?" she repeated more to distract herself than anything. "No harm."

"I'm arresting you." he said bitterly.

"That's funny. That's what Mr. Longbottom said to me and now he's passed out."

"I might not be able to get in there right now, but Hermione will be back soon with some ward breakers and then I'm taking you straight to the Offices."

"What's the matter, Granger can't take down her own ward? Is it the hormones?" she added snidely.

"Magic doesn't _work_ all the time, or have you been living in a rock the last few years?"

"I just used magic." she smirked and even better… her ward picks released into her fingers and she held them up. "I just have one question."

She walked in front of him, separated only by a invisible wall of magic, and pushed her pick out until it met resistance.

"If you try to run, I'll stop you." Harry said, bringing out his wand.

"You're more than welcome to try." she said, and fine threads of magic appeared before her. She picked through them, one thread at a time. Untangling and unwinding the threads until she found was she was looking for. Wards with timers, there was never an easy way to tell how much longer remained. It wasn't like a clock face counting down the seconds. Instead you had to find the bundle of thread in the center, the lines of magic coming together and creating the foundation of which the ward got its energy from. You had to time how quickly the threads were unraveling.

Since magic went wonky, even that wasn't very reliable. But the creator of this ward was precise, detailed, and Pansy had no trouble following the thin lines of magic to the center.

"What are you doing?" he asked, frustrated.

He couldn't see what she was doing. The picks alone allowed her to see the threads of magic that tied the ward together. To him, it probably looked like she was mental, waving tiny metal sticks around. "Tell me how you knew I was here." she said instead of answering his question. If he didn't figure it out on his own, all the better for her.

Incredibly rare, those picks had cost her a pretty penny. But the knowledge that she'd never be trapped by a ward or accidentally set one off was worth the bag of gold she had handed over to an old friend of her father's. The relationship had gotten her a small discount, but the purchase had guaranteed a continued working relationship despite the death of her papa.

Outside the room, Potter was growing even more impatient. "What does that matter now?"

Threads were beginning to unravel quicker now. "So I know how to avoid it next time of course."

One more tangle… and she'd be free. And if she couldn't out run Harry stinking Potter then she deserved to be caught. . .

The Fern began to sing. It hit her in the chest with such a jolt, she dropped her picks and turned on her heel to look at the magical plant with a sinking feeling tearing apart her insides. The visual impact had her leaning against the invisible wall behind her, gasping for breath with her hand on her chest.

The plant was so, so indescribably beautiful and its song only increased the effect. It wasn't in words, but she could pick out the children's lullaby with no difficulty at all as Au Clair De La Lune filled the air. Her Papa had sung it to her as a girl often enough, then later she played it as a warm up during her music lessons.

It brought tears to her eyes, the soft melody bringing a complete sense of peace she thought lost to her. It should have stayed lost.

She sniffed and rubbed her nose, "I hate this fucking thing. Why is it doing this?" she shouted.

"It's so peaceful." Harry Potter leaned against the frame behind her, a small but pleasant look on his face and she wanted to punch him for it. Saint Potter, who could do no wrong, certainly wouldn't understand what was wrong with forced peace. She used her rage to feed her energy and the stupid Fern was making her want to curl up in a ball and sleep for hours.

A cough stopped her rant before she could start. "She lives of chaos."

"Shit. Shit." limbs heavy, she scrambled across the hard floor for her ward picks as her beloved childhood lullaby played through the air. She didn't want to be stuck in here with Longbottom when his strength potion was still likely to be in effect. Gods this job had gone to shit so quickly. Why was he waking up early? Maybe the strength potion had something to do with that…

Maybe her dust hadn't been the described quality and she'd have to go back and punch out the shady dealer for lying to her.

Either way it was time to go.

oOo

Weird things had only ever happened to him at The Conservatory. He thought he'd love it, being a community made garden of both magical and non magical plants and herbs dedicated to learning and charity. It's only profit came from renting out the ballroom and when Bobbi had tracked him down and given him the business card for the developers, one third of the team being Bobbi's brother, and told him how much they wanted him to consult on the project, he'd jumped right in.

But his first day on site he'd been shocked so badly the moment he walked through the door that he'd fallen over, cross eyed.

During construction to build the platforms for the various gardens, solid stacks of wood and giant support beams not yet ready to go in seemed to fall when he was around, a few even close to falling on him. Windows shattered when he got too close. Expensive materials went missing and workers kept getting hurt, nothing major… but they started calling him Unlucky and he had no choice but to remove himself from the project just 2 weeks after it started.

Bobbi's brother Spencer had no problem letting him go, especially when the bad luck seemed to go with him and the whole project was finished just a few short months later. His defense classes he held outside, even if the temperatures were a bit low, because he refused to step inside The Conservatory.

Until now…

And it had gotten him beaten near death by a devil woman with rage in her eyes.

Oddly, it hadn't been Parkinson he first thought of as he slowly came out of his forced sleep, his mind trying to make him open his eyes even as his body flat out refused. Half asleep, half awake. But his mind was aware and it was his body trying to catch up.

While he couldn't move, his thoughts were racing. No, it hadn't been Parkinson he thought of first, though she had done her best to kill him, it had been Bobbi, with her long blonde hair, sweet baby blue eyes, and that tattoo on her arm of the black birds. It was a magical tattoo, the birds flew steadily up the length of her arm and rested on her shoulder if her arms were bare.

He pictured her in her office, directly across the hall from Harry's, a petite witch with an army of Aurors behind her. Because while Harry was the Head Auror, and technically everyone's boss, Bobbi was the one who managed everything. She knew every detail of every case and every active Auror. She was in charge of pay, scheduling, vacation, and anything else you could think of.

As Connor liked to say, quite affectionately too, she ran that bitch.

And for some reason, she was all he could think about as he lay on the hard floor unable to move, listening to Harry and Parkinson share hostilities.

She said to him in her no-nonsense voice, " _I need you Neville Longbottom, you're one of my top Aurors."_

Words she had said to him a month prior. " _You need a partner. It's policy. No exceptions."_

But he didn't want a partner. Not after what happened...

What had he responded with? He couldn't remember, but then her hands were on his chest, digging in his jacket pockets. Her black hair was in his face, which was strange because they had been standing a moment ago. And Bobbi didn't have dark hair, she had pale blonde hair like Luna. And Bobbi would _never_ pick pocket him…

Parkinson. The She-Devil herself. Pick-pocketing him! And still, his body would not cooperate with him. He could smell her above him, like leather, because she looked like a BDSM reject, and metal, from her weapons, searching his pockets and running her hands over him. She took his notepad and phone and snorted a bit. He wished he could open his eyes and handcuff her. Just hear that beloved clicking sound as his cuffs snapped into place on her wrists… then… oh yes… he'd throw her in a cell and watch her fall on her ass, pouting because _he'd_ won finally.

"I'll heal him," her voice sounded husky, the tone one he recognized. She was trying to get her way. He had to wake up right away because as great as Harry was, Parkinson was a slippery little snake who could get out of any situation if she could.

Then he felt magic, prickly and invasive, pierce his skin and go to where he hurt the most. He remembered as a boy Madam Pomfrey healing a cut on his arm, her warm magic had soothed his skin and knitted the cut like a soothing balm.

But he wasn't a boy, magic wasn't the same, and for whatever reason, he still couldn't move. Not an inch. It was torture. Like being held still while a million bees stung him over and over. When this was over he was _definitely_ throwing Pansy Parkinson into the darkest, dankest cell they had at the Offices. He would handcuff her to the bars and leave her there for a few days, take her precious fucking dagger and throw it into a deep lake somewhere.

He got lost in his fantasy, imagining the look on her face, and before long the bee stings were over and he was just laying on the floor, unable to move but no longer in pain.

 _I need you, Neville Longbottom. You're one of my top Aurors._

Bobbi was _wrong._ Parkinson could've killed him, he realized. He had rushed in here like a green trainee, wand out, swearing at her to get her hands up. He hadn't a real fight like that in a long time. Balls the wall, all out fight. He didn't even pull any punches. If he had hit any of the newer Aurors as hard as he had hit Parkinson, they'd have been knocked out. She had rolled with it and then given him lip for it afterwards too.

If he wasn't so pissed at her, he would have been impressed-

He came to with a jerk, as if someone had switched on a light. His body sat up as his eyes opened wide and he took a long, long breath in. Every inch of his skin tingled as feeling returned all at once, while a strange melody seemed to fill the air. It sounded like a child's lullaby to him but he wasn't sure, and it made him want to curl up into a ball and sleep the day away.

Even his muscles seem to relax as the tune played. And when was the last time that happened?

"I hate this fucking thing! Why is it doing this?"

"It's so peaceful." Harry said from his spot by the door.

"She lives in chaos." he told him. Because it was true. He couldn't imagine Pansy Parkinson having a lazy day, lounging around in pajamas, relaxing in any sort of capacity. She functioned best in stressful, wound up situations with split second decisions. If she wasn't a fucking _thief_ she'd make a great Auror.

"Shit. Shit." she skidded across the floor, pawing for her ward picks as he hopped to his feet.

"Parkinson." he held up one pick for her to see, watched her face turn mean.

"Give that to me, Longbottom. Didn't your mother ever teach you not to touch what isn't yours?"

He thought of St. Mungo's in ruins, and worse, the day it was attacked and the outbreak that followed. How Susie had done everything she could to save his parents but they were just two defenseless patients who hadn't even known who they were. They didn't stand a chance.

"Did yours?" he spit out at her and gestured to The Fern.

"The things my mother taught me would curl your nose hairs, Longbottom. Give me my pick back!"

"Okay." he held it out with his hand at the same time he held his cuffs out. "You're coming to the Offices with us."

"Like hell I am!"

"You're trapped in here with me, there's Aurors out there, and more are on the way. You. Are. Not. Getting. Out. Of. Here!" he yelled and resisted the urge cheer. They got her this time. They fucking got her.

She stomped her foot like a child and somehow looked even meaner. "You're asking for another fight, Longbottom!"

"Come on then! It won't change the outcome! WE CAUGHT YOU THIS TIME!"

"Why don't we wait until your ruddy strength potion wears off! You cheating bastard!"

"I didn't take a strength potion!"

"Like hell you didn't, you nearly took off my head with that punch to my jaw!"

"It wasn't a potion," he snapped. "It was an accident! I've been like this for months!"

"Ohh!" she hollered dramatically. "Ohhh! My bad I didn't realize you'd become a freak of _nature_. That makes it alllllll _llllll_ better now! Totally changes the situation - _oh wait -_ it doesn't!"

"Sarcasm? Wow! What a new and completely unheard of concept! Give up now, Parkinson! You're done for. Finally caught!"

"No offense, _Dumb_ bottom, but neither you or Saint Potter over there caught me in the slightest. If anyone did it would be Granger, _not you_. And for the record," she held up her leather cuffed wrists. "Are these handcuffs? Nope! You didn't catch me."

"But I bet I could!" he yelled.

"I'd bet 3000 gallons you couldn't!" she shouted back at him, crossing her arms and smirking at him.

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"Fine?" Harry said, breaking the banter.

"Yeah." he threw up his arms, not quite understanding why he was so, so angry. "Take off your weapons!"

She laughed out loud. "Get real, Longbottom. How is that fair? You're hopped up on supernatural strength juice and you want _me_ to disarm myself?"

"Yep."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"You get a time limit then. 5 minutes. I'll take off all my weapons-"

"And your wand." he demanded.

She glared. "And my wand and I'll give you 5 minutes to have me in handcuffs. You succeed, I'll give you a bag of gold and you get to haul me off to your Offices. But if I win, you let me walk out of here with the Fern!"

"I'll let you walk away, without The Fern."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Bobbi's going to fire me." Harry said and Neville realized this was so far outside of protocol, Bobbi was probably going to fire both of them.

Parkinson smirked meanly again, looking him dead in the eye like she had already won. He made no movements and watched as she placed her favorite dagger, the damn thing that cut into his shoulder and left a cold there, on the pedestal previously holding up The Fern. From there her movements became overly sexualized. Like she was dancing. Her fingers danced down her waist until she gripped the hilt of another large dagger and brought it up to her face, waving it like a fan before she placed it next to the other dagger.

Next was the small dagger she'd used to stab him in the ribs, then another identical small knife from the other boot joined it. She reached behind her and brought out another blade, this one long and thin and threw it onto the growing pile of knives, her body moving sensually every step of the way. She stomped on her right boot and an even smaller blade stuck out, which she grabbed with all the fanfare of a performing street dancer. All she needed was fire breath and a few streamers.

The pile of blades grew bigger and bigger as she added weapon after weapon. A thin blade she had hidden in her hair, a garrote from her belt, a - "Is that a _whip?!"_ Harry asked in awe.

"Potions too." Neville added firmly.

Her response was a single raised eyebrow before she slowly unbuttoned the top of her sash and draped it over the pile of weapons. From her undetectable pockets she withdrew three small vials, the contents a vivid light blue color and she set them ever so gently on the very edge of the pedestal. Then she grabbed the zipper at the top of her leather vest, unzipped it slowly, keeping eye contact with him as she revealed more and more of her chest.

He didn't look. He knew she was trying to distract him using whatever means she could. From between her breasts, which he refused to look at, she withdrew a long, narrow blade. He didn't even think it could be considered a dagger because of its length. More like a short sword…

She finished removing the damn thing from her person and tossed it on the pile with the rest, before finally adding her wand to the top.

"Anything else?" he asked sharply, readying himself to fight her again, the ward on the door making him brave.

"How could she possibly have anymore weapons?" Harry asked from the doorway.

Another smirk and she pulled out a silver sai from a hidden sheath on her arm. It clanged against the other blades as she added it to the pile. The blades ranged from long to short, fat to slim… but Neville knew without a doubt they were all sharpened with deadly precision.

"Did you enjoy the show Neville Longbottom?" she asked in that husky tone of hers.

"I've seen better." he snapped back and widened his stance.

"Wait I have one more." she added sweetly, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small, silvery bag. She shook it out dramatically, ooo'ing and aaa'ing as she blew him a kiss with the other hand…

And dropped a vial of Peruvian Instant Darkness.

The second before the air around him turned pitch black was just enough to see Harry, previously leaning against the invisible wall provided by Hermione's ward, fall through almost comically and smash into the floor face first.

"Shit!" The ward was down!

He felt his feet get swept out from beneath him, a clanging of metal being thrown together, then he could see again.

Parkinson was gone, along with the pile of weapons… and The Fern.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Thanks for all the reviews everyone. Really appreciate the kind words and all the support for my fic. Updates are slow, but I haven't abandoned this story I promise. I have a lot written, it's just not in order. :P

Btw, I could really use a beta if anyone is interested? The workload would be light because my updates are slow.

* * *

Chapter Six

(Where Neville Decides Short Women Are The Devil and Pansy Gets A Surprise Visit)

He arrived at the crime scene hours later than intended, sore and pissed off, shirt torn to shreds, and still bandaging the cut on his hand. He didn't give two shits when Harry teasingly told him Parkinson had so graciously healed him while he'd been unconscious, Neville knew it had been a show to distract while she planned her next move. And she'd conveniently forgotten about the sharp cut on his hand.

By that _fucking_ dagger.

Amazing how when he'd finally gotten himself awake, he hadn't even noticed the cut on his hand, or how badly it hurt. His attention had been solely focused on the spellthief that gave him migraines whenever she blew through town. He knew from experience that no matter how well the cut healed, it would still feel like he was holding ice in his hand for a few days before it dulled into a cold ache that never went away. The old scar on his shoulder still bugged him every now and then, but it always felt a little cooler than the rest of his body.

"Hey LB," one of the pats said to him. Avery was his name and he was well aware of how much Neville hated being called LB by anyone but his close friends. Two others stood close by, all identifiable by their uniforms. "Heard you got a little cat nap at The Conservatory."

Neville tied off his bandage and gave the group of men a hard look. To say he was cranky was an understatement. "You guys have nothing better to do than gossip like a bunch of old witches playing bridge? Thought there was a dead body here."

It seemed to cow the younger two and they took a harder stance, keeping watch as they were supposed to do. But he knew Avery, and the man had it out for all the Auror's ever since he failed his tests in training few years back and had to take a job with the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol instead of becoming an Auror like he really wanted.

"Sure is. Right over there, _boss._ We haven't been sleeping on the job. Nobody's touched it."

" _Her._ " Neville snapped at him as he walked by and didn't bother giving him another thought. Let the man pine for his job, even if Neville lost it, because it was a sure bet that Bobbi was going to yell at him for at least half an hour when he got back the offices. Avery would never be an Auror.

And Neville was in for life even if Bobbi was really, really mad.

Ron Weasley stood by the body, looking grim which told Neville a lot about what he was going to see. Ron had two faces, happy or mad. Grim came out on those rare cases where he didn't know what to think. Thankfully, his friend didn't mention The Conservatory, though if the pats new then he knew everyone at the offices knew too. It was only a matter of time before he got the call to go talk to Bobbi.

After he'd rushed out of the offices, realizing he'd seen Parkinson at The Conservatory, Harry and Hermione rushed after him but Ron headed for their next wolf murder victim since technically Ron was his partner on the case since his old partner was gone. But thinking about Jory hurt almost as much as thinking about the poor girl in front of him.

She was tucked into a dirty corner in a dirty part of the city. Just like the rest had been. Naked and beaten and hurt. It made his teeth clench.

So he pushed all thoughts of his cold and bleeding hand, and all his anger at Parkinson, from his mind and took a hard, long look at the slain witch that needed his full attention. Bright red painted her nails. She was dark skinned, like Katherine. Her hair had grown curly and massed in all directions and her dark brown eyes stared at him lifelessly, but that was the only undamaged part of her body. A bit of her nose had been chewed off and she was missing an ear. Cuts, bruises, and broken things covered the rest of her. Her legs were bent the wrong way, and her arms showed the small circular burns where Glimmer had been forced into her body. The little holes smelled like burnt magic, like lightning had struck.

It was the burn marks that let him know she wasn't a previous user because, for whatever reason, Glimmer only burned the first couple of times you used it. Forcing it into the bloodstream through the veins in your arms left an ugly burn mark at first and gave a high like no other, apparently. Neville didn't know from experience because he flat out refused to try the stuff after watching what it did to his old partner.

The nameless girl before him had a lot of burn marks.

Ten years ago, the sight would have made Neville throw up his dinner.

"Poor girl." Ron said softly and Neville knew he was thinking about the little girl in his wife's belly being fed a daily dose of sugary cereal. "Same as the others." He continued. "But look at this."

He used the tip of his wand to lift the mass of curls away from her shoulder and pointed his small, handheld flashlight at the bare skin.

"Is that…?" Neville squinted, trying to get a better look. "She's a wolfmate?"

A raised scar stood out in the harsh light. A bite mark, made by a wolf to show the woman was his or her mate. It should have meant she was untouchable to other wolves, and to Neville's understanding that meant physically untouchable. Not just off limits.

"Do you get the feeling that this case just got a whole lot worse?" his friend asked.

Neville squeezed his eyes shut and tried not the imagine just how bad this was going to get. They had thought that a single wolf was doing these murders, because they always showed up after the Full Moon and the very violent nature of the murders suggested a wolf. Even the weakest wolf would have the strength required to brutalize these girls the way they had been. Teeth marks had also suggested wolf.

But in no way would a wolf ever do what was done to these girls to his _mate._ And another wolf couldn't touch a mate that wasn't their own. If a human was taking advantage of the current political climate to murder these women, the wolf families were going to go on a _rampage._

He reached into his jacket pocket looking for his notepad. "Damnit."

"Problem?"

He patted himself down and realized a lot more was missing besides his pad. "Fuu-ck. That _bitch_."

"You know her?"

"No. Parkinson." he lowered his voice so the pats wouldn't hear him. "She mugged me, took my cell and my pad… ughh. And my wallet. Are you kidding me?"

His hands searched his pockets and found them completely empty. Except for… his hand closed around the pick he still had and he smiled. Parkinson only had its match, meaning she was without her ward picks for now.

"Here," Ron handed over a pencil and a torn piece of parchment from his pocket. "Use this for now."

"Thanks." He began scribbling down all his thoughts on the case. Neville wasn't as forgetful as he used to be, but he figured out quickly that once he wrote something down, he was far more likely to remember it. That notepad was his lifeline at work, and Parkinson had snatched it from him.

One day.

One fucking day.

He was going to arrest her.

Then his walkie buzzed. "LB. Bobs wants to see you ASAP."

He groaned at the night sky and Ron gave him a crooked smile. "She got away and mugged you. At least you're well rested."

"Fuck off."

oOo

ASAP meant "As Soon As Possible" but Neville walked back to the offices, which was a nondescript building wedged between two warehouses that sat two miles from The Ministry of Magic, on the side of town where Magic worked. It's official title was "Magical Enforcement Agency and Auror Department" but no one wanted to call it MEAAD, or come up with a better name so they just called it the offices and moved on. It functioned as both the training facility and management for Aurors, Pats, and Hit Wizards and it had been Harry's idea to have it separated from The Ministry.

The walk gave him time to cool off and set his head straight. But it also froze his fingers because the weather had turned biting cold the last few days. So it was with a clear head he got the offices and made his way downstairs to Bobbi's office.

The door was open so he knocked on the door frame and walked in, collapsing into the chair in front of her desk and rubbing his fingers together.

Immediately, a petite blonde witch that was about half his size was standing over him and beating his shoulder with a file. She wore one of those tight skirts he saw lots of business women wearing and a nice shirt to go with it. Course, he would never be fooled by her attire. She was small and quick and an excellent duelist if magic decided to cooperate. Her and Harry went at it occasionally and it was always a fun fight to watch.

She also happened to be very, very pissed off at the moment.

"You - complete - idiot - Neville - Longbottom! That whole situation at The Conservatory is a disaster! That isn't even your case! You're on the wolf murders! If you had a partner you wouldn't be running off half cocked like that! I've told you time and time again. If you aren't going to listen to me, why should I keep you around?"

Her heels were in the corner but otherwise her office was immaculately put together and organized. His personal file laid on her desk, with a termination order directly on top of it.

He turned his eyes on her and glared. "I seem to recall you telling me I was one of your top Aurors, Barbara."

He got a pointed finger in his face and an even harsher tone than before. "Don't you dare Barbara me, Neville. You have exactly 60 seconds to convince me to keep you on my roster or I'll take that badge and chuck in the river."

He sighed and realized all at once exactly how bad he messed up and how much his muscles ached after the shitty night he'd had. Rushing off to go confront Parkinson, making Hermione rush to put up the ward, going in immediately without Harry…

So he let his face relax as he looked at Bobbi, whom he respected and considered a close friend. "I'm good at this job, and even though I fucked up, you like having me around. Also, I think there's a human killer on the wolf murders and you're gonna want me around on that."

Unflinching, she stared at him so long he had to resist the urge to squirm. "I hate when men tell me what I want."

"I know." he said. "That's why I do it."

Her bright blue eyes narrowed and the look she gave him could cut just as well as Parkinson's dagger did his hand. Finally she said, "Pick a partner, or I sign this."

The tension broke and she finally sat in her own desk chair, pushing the termination order at him.

A partner was the last thing he wanted. Some of the older Aurors understood what it was like to lose your partner, and Neville had thought he understood too. Until it happened to him, then he realized different.

"You pick my partner and I'll bow to your superior judgement. But I wanna help with The Fern."

"That's funny you think you'll be on anything other than desk duty for a few weeks. At least."

"And you're funny if you think it's a good idea to put anyone else on it but me. No one in the whole world knows Parkinson as well as I do. She went from stealing somewhat valuable trinkets and books for well paying but otherwise harmless collectors to _the most valuable plant_ we've ever known. And she didn't even realize why. Who knows who has that plant now."

"She didn't know?"

"No, I think she was just hired to grab it and go. And I'll be seeing her again, real soon."

"What makes you think that?" Bobbi asked him.

"You know those ward picks she has? The incredibly rare ward picks that you can't find anywhere else?"

"Yeah…?"

He slapped the piece of metal on the desk in front of him. "I have one, she has the other. I can guarantee she'll be coming for it."

Bobbi sat, her fingers drumming against each other as she looked at him and he thought she might be calming down a bit. He slipped the pick into his pocket and then crossed his arms, giving her the same hard look he'd given the pats earlier. It didn't do shit this time.

After considering for long moment she said, "Consult on The Fern case, if you the get the chance to bring Parkinson in, do it. But I need you on the wolf murders. I have the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures breathing down my neck until Granger can get that bill passed. They've executed wolves, Nev."

"I know."

"That makes the families angry."

"I know."

"Which makes them do stupid things like murder people."

"Yeah - I know-"

"Which makes the bloody Committee breath down my neck."

"I-"

"Which makes me breath down your neck."

"I'm leaving now."

"Get shit done, LB."

"Okay BO."

"Don't call me that. I'm glad you're okay."

"If she had stabbed me to death, would you still have been angry with me?" he stopped by the door to ask.

"Yes. Now get out of my office." she dismissed him with a firm word, but he saw the tiniest of smiles on her face.

oOo

She didn't have very many pleasant memories of her Aunt Trina. She was Tarrant's younger sibling and Pansy's only Aunt on her father's side. And she was a right bitch and age had only made her worse. She hated children, she hated messes, she hated bad manners, and she hated any kind of commotion.

Needless to say, she had always hated Pansy, because Pansy was loud, messy, and rude all the time. So what a surprise it was to find that when her Aunt Trina decided to move to the south of France for her 'health', AKA her much younger, newly acquired husband, she also decided to leave her only niece the private little town house Pansy was now unlocking the front door to. Posy had come later so it was all hers, and thanks to Theo a few years back, no one new about it.

She shut the door and took a deep, ragged breath. The cut on her head was really starting to hurt and she was sick and tired of the damn Fern doing it's _thing,_ whatever that was _._ She didn't want to be soothed. She didn't want peace.

She wanted to fuck and fight and drink and be _satisfied_. And hopefully at the end of the day, finally get baby sister out of her mother's clutches and run away to some sunny beach.

The ward on the place was solid, not that she could tell since she'd stupidly left one of her picks with Longbottom. But she barely had enough time to grab what she could before she ran. What an idiot she was, sticking around to fight instead of grabbing and getting out of there, which had been her plan all along. Now she was down her ward picks. That would be priority one.

In the morning.

For tonight, she wanted an ice bath, a hard drink, and a long sleep. She dumped The Fern into the sink, slotted in the plug, and ran the faucet. She watched the stupid plant bounce as if it was pleased. Plants were dumb. She told it so, but it didn't seem to care that she was bad mouthing it.

A roll of her eyes and she dropped the rest of her gear to the ground. The silver bag full of her weapons fell open and her arsenal spilled across the hard floor. The Mana Bombs might've tripped her up, and back at The Conservatory, she was almost sad she'd brought them when she'd thought she would have to leave them behind. She'd known exactly how long she had before that ward was going down. But you couldn't rush about with Mana Bombs on you. You had to be delicate.

She went to the old fashioned medicine cabinet in the corner and took the blue vials from her pocket, rolled up in a bit of Longbottom's torn shirt, and placed them on the highest shelf she could reach. She guessed there really was such thing as being over prepared, but thankfully she was quick.

And she wouldn't soon forget jumping over Harry Potter as he laid on the ground in surprise either. Though… Draco was sure to be angry with her once he heard what happened. She was going to have to visit him again.

She cracked her neck.

At least she got what she came for. That bag of gold was as good as hers. Except… she couldn't help but remember how angry Longbottom had gotten at her when she didn't know what The Fern was for. It made her question if it were possible that Daphne had known?

Absolutely, she decided. Maybe so Daphne didn't have to pay her so much, maybe because she thought it was funny.

And maybe Pansy didn't know everything. There could very well be something else going on, because either way… someone had tipped off Neville Longbottom on her whereabouts, and there were only a handful of people who knew where she would be. Draco could have pieced it together, but other than that only Theo and Daphne knew.

And Theo would never sell her out, not in a million years or for a million pieces of gold. That left Daphne, but why hire her to steal something only to turn around and snitch on her? There could also have been something else that gave her away. Something she hadn't thought of. That was priority two.

In the morning.

She turned the faucet off and made her way upstairs to the bath, stripping her clothes as she went. Things were swollen, despite the heal potion she had used and the only reason for that she could figure was because Neville Longbottom was apparently super strength now. How unreal was that? Her ribs complained when she pulled her sash and leather vest over her head and dropped it to ground and when she reached behind herself to unclasp her bra, she gasped.

Super strength indeed.

In the bathroom a large tub awaited her with many knobs she was familiar with. She turned one and watched ice fall from the large silver faucet. Then another for cold water. It would take several minutes to fill the large tub so she continued to undress as she walked to the bigger bedroom, dropping clothes as she went. She didn't turn on the light and instead kicked off her beloved boots, putting them neatly by the bed. Then began dumping the contents of all her hidden pockets onto the dresser by the window.

She had her pants off next and was standing in a teeny tiny pair of black lace panties when she heard him, just the barest of inhales which she recognized right away. Anyone else and she'd be running for her weapons. Instead she dropped her pants to the ground and turned the light on, standing before him in nothing but a few inches of lace.

He looked better. He'd been sleeping and without a doubt taking a few of the potions she'd given him. He sat in the corner with his hands in his lap looking like he was in trouble, his lips down in a frown and his eyes worried. To his credit, he kept his eyes on her own and didn't peek at her goodies.

"What do you want Theo?" she asked, and put her hands on her hips.

Theo had been the only man that ever loved her, she was sure. But after what he had done to her, she could never love him again. And if she had any say in the matter, she would never fall in love again. But she had, without a doubt, at one time been very much in love with the man. She knew too that he still wanted her, especially if he was clean.

But she didn't feel the same, not anymore. And she knew Theo wanted the woman she'd been, not the woman she was now. But a little making out would be okay wouldn't it? Because if she didn't get laid soon, she might do something really stupid.

"I was worried. Something wasn't right."

"You've been spying again? That's naughty Theodore."

He huffed in frustration."Daphne got a huge payout. Huge. But I knew you hadn't done the job yet. And she doesn't have anything planned to release to market right now. It didn't make sense."

"Everyone knows she killed her husbands to get where she is, Theo. I wouldn't be surprised if she's also involved it other illegal activity. After all, she hired me."

"Great, and now look at you."

"What this?" she gestured to her swollen arm then the cut on her head. "You should see the other guy."

The smell of that cologne… she hated it. Jac wore it and it reminded her of Spain and Glimmer and moldy carpet pressing into her nose as he did things to her. She couldn't believe Neville Longbottom was wearing that cheap cologne, didn't those Auror's make any money? Now she had a name… and a few Perfume stores might be getting a visit from her…

In the morning.

She shook her head and looked over to Theo again. He hated when she began training, didn't understand why she needed it so desperately. He didn't get it, and likely wouldn't. But that was his problem, not hers. Because Pansy Parkinson would never be in a position where she was helpless. Never again. And if Theo didn't understand that need she had, then he wasn't the man for her.

He turned his hands over and over in his lap, still worried. "Why don't you let me help you?"

"I do let you help me, when I need it. I don't need your help right now, so don't worry. And you know I can handle Daphne just fine."

"Can you?"

She felt her temper flaring. "What do you think?" she snapped.

"I think you're underestimating her!" he said, surging to his feet. "I think that's something you do! You're too cocky!"

"You came here to yell at me?"

"I'm just worried about you."

"Yeah? Well don't be. I don't need you worrying about me anymore, Theo." and she turned to walk away, because otherwise she was going to be mean to him but his hand shot out and caught her around the arm.

She stilled and looked down at his fingers, gripping her upper arm tightly. "I know you don't want to fight me Theodore."

He flinched at her tone, but held firm. "Please. Just please promise me you'll be careful."

"Get your hand off me."

He did, but she grabbed him anyways and hooked her leg around his knee as she pushed him. It threw him onto the bed where he landed in an awkward position. "Don't touch me like that." She crawled on top of him, pushing him onto his back with a harsh move. Then she pinned his shoulders down as she straddled him and got into his face. "Don't ever grab me like that." she repeated.

"I'm sorry."

"I can't give you want you want. We've discussed this before." More like yelled and screamed at each other until they both went hoarse and red in the face with tears.

"I know."

"And I wouldn't feel bad for taking advantage of your feelings if I wanted a quick fuck." her fingers dug into his shoulders, which were long and lean like the rest of him. If they got intimate, it would be just fine. Like trying on an old dress in the back of her closet. It would fit alright, look good on her even. But it was comfortable and familiar. And she wanted something new.

At the end of the day, after so many fights and years apart, they both knew they would never end up together. Even if she did miss him a little.

"So either fuck me and get out, or just get out."

"Okay."

She released his shoulders and he rolled out from under her and stood by the end of the bed where he pulled her to her feet. He placed a tender kiss on the edge of her mouth and then said, "Thank you for the potions."

"You're welcome."

"Please be careful and call me if you need me."

She sucked in a sharp breath and everything felt okay again, her anger at him dispersing as quickly as it came about. "I will."

"And… just remember what I said about Daphne…"

She would, and she thought long and hard about Daphne Greengrass, Neville Longbottom, and The Fern as she sipped whiskey and dumped herself in the ice cold bath before she dried off and crawled into her comfortable bed for a very long, hard sleep.

oOo

The next morning she felt far better, so she dressed in a tight pair of black jeans and a black shirt that showed as much cleavage as possible. Two black strings crossed over the tops of her breasts and drew even more attention to her cleavage, which was pushed up expertly with a bra she'd spent a fortune on. She put on makeup, left her hair loose and wild, and slipped into her boots. Her wand holster went on and her favorite dagger got tucked behind her shirt. Then she put on her favorite leather jacket and dug out a beater's bat from the front closet.

She was going hunting.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** This chapter contains **VIOLENCE** and **RAPE.** Please be warned. Again, thanks for the reviews and follows. :)

* * *

Chapter Seven

(Longbottom vs Parkinson, Round: 2140)

He picked up a prepaid phone from a Muggle store and sent a message to Hermione, who was without a surprise the best at using a cell phone among their group of friends. Then he sent another message to Bobbi, telling her how lovely and amazing she was and asked if she wanted a cup of coffee. He'd already gotten the coffee but he was about a block from the offices and wanted to impress her, because he definitely landed hard on her shit list.

But he was a big boy now and could suck up to Bobs until she was less pissed at him. The phone jingled and Bobbi's reply popped up on the screen. " _Stop brown nosing and have the report on the newest WM by 10, or that badge is mine LB."_

He picked up the pace and had the coffee in her hand a minute later, as well as the report she wanted. Then he shut himself in his office, made sure his walkie was on, and started in despite the fact he was sure his office was slowly shrinking.

He wrote a new note in big bold letters, "Stop pissing off Bobs, pronto" and stuck it right in the middle of his board right after he hit his head on the ceiling. The room stopped shrinking, but it didn't return to normal either. Good enough.

A picture of the new victim pinned itself to his board and he wrote a big ? above it. The only link between these women that he could see was that they all attended a revel during the Full Moon. But the new girl, she was the first wolfmate.

She _should_ have been safe at the revel. Of course, now he wondered if the girls were even being snatched at the revel. The possibility that the murderer was a human went from zero to very high with the newest victim. The killer might be hunting somewhere else and that just rubbed him the wrong way.

" _I released a photo of the WM girl. Let you know if I get any hits."_

It was the only way to get an identification since the witch was found without any clothes, wallet, or wand. A few of the girls had been recognized by fellow Aurors or Pats, but the rest had been ID'd by family after reporting them missing. It was a brutal process.

But he felt a strange kind of hope looking at her lifeless face in the photo. He wanted to go back in time and stop any of this from happening, but with her death that meant there was a wolf out there who lost his or her mate. It might mean he could get the wolf families on his side instead of resisting him at every turn.

He flexed his hand, feeling the icy burn as he did, and his walkie buzzed as if on cue.

"Hey LB - we got a shopkeep here asking for you. Had some trouble in Diagon Alley this morning."

"Diagon Alley? I'm on my way then." he responded, tapping on his newest picture. He'd only been on the case since Edina Nelson had been found, a few months. But he'd been determined to figure it out and stop the killings since day one. That hadn't changed.

He stood and hit his head on the ceiling. Again.

"Fuck! Bobbi!"

"Oh you're calling for me?" she said, coming around the corner and into his office. She shoved a innocent looking man in his direction, wearing his official Auror uniform and a nervous grin on his face. His cheekbones were incredibly wide and it made his head look bigger than his body. "Neville this is Lester Hastings, Les this is Neville Longbottom. Your new partner. First day on the job. Good luck."

And she scurried around the corner, her heels clicking against the floor as she walked away.

The man ran his hands through his light colored hair nervously before giving himself a shake. "Hey, nice to meet you."

Neville stared at the man's outstretched hand and then yelled down the hallway, "Bobs! Are you kidding me?!"

"BADGE." and "RIVER." were the only things he heard in response.

"Son of a bitch."

"Er - sorry. Is there something else going on?" the man asked.

"There's always something going on around here, Lester Hastings. Let's go. I've been called to Diagon Alley."

"Oh! A call. Already? Cool. Great. This is my first day."

Neville felt his teeth clench.

oOo

They made their way down the crowded street on the south side of Diagon Alley to where he'd been summoned and the entire time Lester talked about his training as if Neville hadn't gone through the exact same thing years earlier. He tried to set a fast pace, hoping the brisk walk would wind the man enough to get him to shut up. But no such luck existed in this world for Neville Longbottom.

He rounded the corner and saw a little shop, where he'd bought a date a small vial of perfume one time, called 'Scents and Styles'. A cute little shop, his date had called it. It had all kinds of perfumes and girly shit. A Pat stood out front with what could only be the owner looking frantic and pissed.

"Now's the time to shut up, Les, and listen to what the man has to say." he snapped at his new partner and introduced himself to the owner.

"Mr. Longbottom? Come inside and see what your girlfriend has done to my shop!" the man shouted at him.

"Girlfriend? Sir, I don't have a girl-"

The man ushered him into the shop and down an isle where an entire shelf of cologne had been smashed into smithereens. The smell overwhelmed, and it was more than familiar.

"She took a beater's bat and smashed the entire shelf! Hundreds of galleons worth of product, who is going to reimburse me for this loss?" the owner continued to shout as Neville reached for the nearest bottle that looked the least damaged. 'Quoram Scent for Men' was written on the front.

"Fuu-ck." he dropped the bottle and turned to the owner. "When did this happen?"

"20 minutes ago! That witch needs a muzzle and a paddling! Shouting at the top of her lungs, swinging that bat around wildly! She told me you were her boyfriend! I should call you directly! You owe me at least 500 galleons, sir! This is your responsibility!"

"I know for a fact these bottles cost 7 sickles a piece, buddy. I need to know if anywhere else in Diagon Alley sells this product specifically?"

"I want it in writing that I will be reimbursed for damages!" he shouted so loudly spittle flew everywhere.

"Sir," Neville stepped forward and looked down on the red faced man. "Talk to the Patrol over there and he can get you a claim filed. But you need to tell me if there is another store in Diagon Alley that sells this product specifically. Now."

The little intimidation act worked and the owner calmed just enough to tell Neville there was a modern potion shop a few streets north but he wasn't sure of the name.

He didn't thank the man, just took off. She had a 20 minute head start, but he could catch her if he was lucky. The modern potion shop was named Tilly's Potions and More and catered to the modern witch or wizard. He stepped in right as an owl flew overhead.

"Wow that was quick." The cashier said to him when he stepped inside and a little bell chimed happily somewhere. The man had deep acne scars on his young face and a broom and a wand in his hands, his clear eyes looking interestedly at Neville's Auror Badge pinned at his hip.

"Has there been any problems here?" he asked immediately.

"Uh you could say that, man."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Some chick dressed head to toe in black and looking like she walked out of my nastiest wet dream came in here and asked if we sold any Quoram for men. She had witchy eyes man."

Neville spotted Glimmer scars up and down the man's arms, but they all looked old.

"Pretty sure they're all witches here, it's Diagon Alley."

"I know but… you shoulda seen 'em. You'd understood then."

"Let me guess, kind of purple? Kind of blue? About this tall with dark black hair?" Neville brought his hand measured up to his chest.

"That's her, man. I showed her where it was, cause ya know - she was hot. Asked her if she wanted any help getting it from the shelf, since it were, ya know, kind of higher up. She just smiled and said no thanks, and took out a beater's bat. Couldn't believe it. She swung and took out the whole shelf, smiled the whole time. It's always the hot ones that're crazy, man."

"Right. What happened then?" Neville asked impatiently just when Les entered the building.

"Oh right well she thanked me and asked if anywhere else in town that sold the stuff."

"And… did you tell her?"

"Oh yeah man… she was hot." the idiot repeated for nth time.

Neville rolled his eyes so hard he thought he was going to go blind. "Where did you tell her? And how long ago was this?"

"Not long man, probably about 5 to 10 minutes ago. I just sent an owl to the shop owner when you walked in. Told her about Scents and Styles and said there was only one other place I knew had that brand of cologne and that was Madam Primpernelle's on main street."

"Shit." he took off out the door as quickly as he could and headed for main street at a flat out sprint. The oldest potion shop in Diagon Alley came into view just a short minute later and he slowed down, catching his breath and opened the heavy wooden door just as he heard a giant crash of glass smashing.

oOo

She kissed Theo on the mouth and bid him goodbye as she set off on her own for a long walk in the city. The weather was too good not to go out, but Theo insisted he didn't feel like taking a walk with her. She promised to bring home some dinner and grabbed a book before she set off. It was Summertime in Barcelona, crowded and busy and she loved it.

No one knew her.

Her mother was far away.

And Theo made her feel safe. Finally.

She walked for a long time, and like usual, got a little lost. But that was the point really. It was easy to find your way again in the city. The sun began to set and it sent beautiful colors across the sky and she could hear music playing on a rooftop cafe. Seemed like as good a place as any to stop for dinner, maybe have a few drinks. She took the stairs but quickly realized the roof was at full occupancy.

Then he grabbed her on arm and said in the native tongue, "I know I've been waiting nearly 30 minutes now. But apparently there's a downstairs bar as well, care to join me?"

"Sorry, a little slower?" she said as carefully as she could.

"Oh pardon me, would English be better?"

"English is fine, or French." she added, because she could tell from his accent he spoke the language.

This seemed to delight him and he went off in rapid fire French which she followed along with just fine.

"See this is what is so great about the city, you never know just who you run into, or what language you'll be speaking!" he laughed.

In her experience, most people around could speak at least a basic amount of any of those three languages but he seemed so happy to be conversing in French with her she couldn't help but get into it as well. His name was Jac.

They found the downstairs bar and soon had drinks. The alcohol and his easy going nature coaxed out a lot of talking from her. She told him about Theo and how happy they were to be away. About her strained relationship with her mother. How her idiot friend Draco was dating a real harpy. He even got her talking about her beloved Papa and how much she missed him. He was unbelievably easy to talk in a way that got her excited to share. What did she do for fun? She was obsessed with this new book series and she wanted to learn how to cook because both her and Theo were absolutely abysmal at it and no she didn't think she could even boil water. She loved to play piano and wasn't a terrible singer, but the cello was her true love though she was a bit out of practice.

When he ordered her a second drink she didn't think anything of it. But the third seemed like a lot and she politely declined, saying she needed to get some dinner and get home soon.

"Ah one more," he said, convincing her. "I'm having such a good time. Next time I would love to meet this Theo of yours, he sounds like the perfect man."

She felt her cheeks burn. The words were right, even sounded casual. But the heat behind them sounded too intense. And when her wine came he ran his finger around the rim of her glass, catching a stray drop of the red liquid. He spread it against her lip and she felt all at once put off.

She had been so open and honest about her and Theo, there was simply no way he could have misunderstood. "Ah forgive me, the wine has gone to my head."

"No, it's fine. I'll finish this glass and head out. Thank you for such good company tonight."

"The pleasure is, of course, mine my dear Pansy Parkinson. Let's finish this glass and I'll make sure you get home safely."

And there it was again, that word. Safe. Theo made her feel safe, and Jac was promising to get her home to Theo.

She nodded and finished her wine, happily chatting with him. Then it went blank.

She came to and felt panicked all at once, because things hurt. And her wrists were tied up. She knew because her head was lying against her arm and she could see the twine twisted against her skin and tied to a darkened headboard.

Tied up and naked, she jerked violently against her restraints. And then he was there.

"Shh. Shh darling. You're safe, you're fine. I'm afraid the drug hit you rather hard." Jac said to her, running his fingers over her face and into her hair. She jerked her head away from him but she could only go so far, being tied up as she was. And she was naked.

Panic. Panic. Panic.

"What - what are you doing?"

Between her legs was sore. Ached in the way that told her while she'd been out, Jac had been…

No she couldn't even think about that. She was a witch, she could get out of this. Where was her wand?

"Just checking your eyes, darling. Glimmer has an odd effect on most people the first time." She hated that he reminded her of Theo.

"G-g-glimmer?"

"Yes, haven't you heard of it? It is new… I found your wand earlier. I was so surprised to find you were a witch! Perhaps the Glimmer had such a strong effect because I used rophenol first. I thought you were a Muggle girl, you see."

He ran a finger down her arm, and she wanted to throw up at the contact. Her eyes followed the movement and she spotted tiny burn marks up and down the inside of her arm. "What? You f-f-f-found my w-w-wand?"

This was the wrong thing to say, because it delighted him. He leaned in and she realized he was only wearing a slim pair of black pants. "Yes, my darling. It just cemented us. I knew you were perfect for me. In fact, I think I should take you again. So you realize it too."

And he slid out of his pants and she cursed and screamed but she was tied up and couldn't go anywhere. His wand appeared before her eyes and she felt her restraints tighten. He pulled the sheet off her naked body and she saw more burn marks up and down her thighs. She saw a blood stain on the sheet that was several hours old. She saw what were future bruises forming on her thighs and then he rubbed something cold and jelly like between her legs and she screamed out.

He only took that as encouragement. He held her face close to his as he took her, even when she did finally vomit, he simply told her it was an effect of the drug and not to worry. He didn't stop. All she could smell was burnt magic, moldy carpet, and his cologne.

She was in that bed for a week.

oOo

She wanted to cackle with glee when the glass shattered and flew across the floor, spilling the rotten cologne everywhere. She couldn't put into words how satisfying it felt to smash the cologne bottles, it ramped up her energy until she was trembling with need and laughter. The old witch that had been behind the counter had run in pure terror the moment she found the shelf with Quoram products. The old beater's bat had done its job, taking far harder hits in its lifetime than smashing glass. But after the first swing she heard the door open and someone can running in with heavy steps. " _PARKINSON!"_

She turned and felt alive.

"How lucky am I?" she said, pushing her lips out and giving him a sexy smile. "Neville Longbottom, was last night as good for you as it was for me?"

"You are getting on my damn nerves! What the hell are you doing? You're under arrest!"

"I'm afraid that's not going to work any better for you now than it did last time, baby." she swung her bat around and smashed the second shelf with a crash of noise.

Giggling, she couldn't help herself. She was giddy with energy. She wanted to fuck! She wanted to fight! Her eyes narrowed at Longbottom. Maybe both. He was amped up on super strength. It might actually be worth it to find out about those damn shoulders once and for all.

"Why the hell are you doing this?! Just because I was wearing that particular cologne doesn't mean you can go around and vandalize perfume and potion shops!"

"Oh please!" she laughed. "Not everything is about you, Longbottom. However… I should thank you, since I didn't know which cologne that scent belonged to until you told me. This is, I guess, your doing."

He didn't get a chance to respond because at that moment the door slammed open and a tall man with a really flat face and light blonde hair stumbled in, out of breath.

"Sir-" gasp. "I'm-" gasp. "Here-" gasp!

"Hastings! Pull yourself together!"

"Is this your partner, Longbottom? What happened to the other one? He was soooo cute."

"Don't talk about my old partner." he snapped at her. "Give me the bat! You're under arrest!"

"You know, you keep saying that to me. Is it code for something? Is it our safe word?"

His eyes bulged and she was hit with the urge to keep making him mad. As mad as possible. "How many hits to the head have you taken, Parkinson? You're fucking mental."

"It's okay baby, I'll go easy on you. The first time." and she swung her bat again, the wood gleaming black as it soared through the air and smashed another shelf into bits and pieces.

"Hastings go around, no - ugh - yes like that." Longbottom rolled his eyes at his apparent partner and she felt her smile widen. She was an eye roller too.

"Longbottom, you know that bet still stands. I got a bag of gold with your name on it if you can manage to put a pair of handcuffs on me." she kept one eye on the blundering idiot that was trying to circle her and the other trained carefully on Longbottom.

"Then I'm a rich man, because I'm taking you in if it's the last thing I do!" he shouted at her.

"Now there's no reason to get all _huffy_ -"

"Theft, assault-" he begun reading off her offenses and she couldn't help but think huffy looked actually... kind of, well, _cute_ on him.

She swung her bat around as he went off, trying to appear bored. She wasn't bored though. Therapy hadn't done shit for her or her issues. Breaking those bottles however…

"Vandalism, disorderly conduct-"

The man named Hastings was looking more and more out of place and unsure of what to do, but she was slowly deciding she didn't really need to keep an eye out on him. If he was more than a few days out of training she'd eat her dagger.

"C'mon Longbottom," she made her voice husky on purpose. "How much time have you spent thinking about me lately?"

"Destruction of property-"

"Surely you have better things you could be doing than chasing around little ole me?" she interrupted him, knowing it was true. He'd said as much the night before at The Conservatory.

"You can bet your ass I do! I'm up to my ears with this serial killer case, my boss is pissed off at me-"

"Uh oh, I hope not because of last night? But it was so much fun." she put a hand over her heart dramatically.

"Don't play that innocent shit with me, Parkinson. You have something that belongs to me! Several somethings as a matter of fact!"

She smirked. "And you have something that belongs to me. Tradsies?"

Handcuffs dangled from his hands a second later. "Pansy Parkinson, you're under arrest."

"I'm starting to think you _like_ saying that to me."

He didn't bother asking if she was resisting this time. He just charged at her. Like a giant bear.

And fuck, it was fun.

Swift feet moved her from Neville's war path and in the same step she threw her bat at his useless partner. She didn't stop to watch what happened, but she did hear a rather satisfying thunking sound just moments after the bat left her hand. Her old trainer would have scolded her for throwing away her weapon so soon in the fight, but as a weapon that bat was far to slow for her fighting style.

Her dagger fell into her hand and she swiped out. He blocked it. He swung and she dodged it, knowing better than to try to block a punch from a super strength Neville Longbottom.

Instead of trying to fight her, he was attempting to contain her. Obviously he'd learned better after their last round. Maybe he really thought she'd give him a bag of gold if managed to get cuffs on her, but most likely he was in the dog house for losing The Fern and the next best thing for him to do was bring her in.

Like she would let that happen.

She dodged Neville's large fists and jumped over his kicks and on and on it went, until she felt like she was dancing and their breaths got heavier. He landed a few blows but her quickness lessened the impact of each one. Twice she nearly got him in his side only for him strike her wrist, knocking the dagger from her grip, which she scooped up with her other hand.

But he was already blocking her second attack.

"Why won't you -"a harsh breath. "-just go down?!"

His elbow came down hard on her back, right below her shoulder blade and she stumbled to the side, knocking over a shelf. Bottles rained down, glass shattered, and the scent of lemongrass and verbena filled her nose. She wanted to gag.

"Why don't you?" and she kicked out, hit his knee, and landed a blow to his side of his head. More scents surrounded them as they broke more and more, rich and deep mixed with light and floral until it clogged her nose with an overpowering film on her tongue.

She knocked him into another shelf and the whole thing collapsed. His partner used the opportunity to made a move, but she danced around him so quickly he looked dizzy and she threw him into the last row of shelves still standing.

Longbottom used that small moment of opportunity to wrap his arms around her, constrain her, but she spun away and, in the same move, her dagger came out and slashed the front of his shirt into two.

Every second that passed he got angrier and angrier, and he completely missed when she nicked his new cell phone from his pocket.

He was strong, but she was fast. And it made them too evenly matched.

Finally he nailed his elbow into her jaw and she stumbled to the side, seeing spots, and waited for him to falter - which he did when he went for his cuffs instead of containing her. She ignored the throb in her face from his hit and jumped on his back, wrapping her legs around his waist and her elbow around his throat. Her other hand gripped her own arm, keeping it flush against Longbottom's throat, choking him. If she could deprive him of air, she could search for her pick unhindered and be on her merry way.

His fingers dug into her arm, attempting to get a hold and tear her off, but her leverage was just right. All the strength in the world didn't matter one bit if he couldn't get a grip on her. Breathing heavily in his ear, she said, "We should do this," a grunt. "-more often, Longbottom."

"Fuck - you-" he started slapping her arm and she noticed his partner rising from the debris and mess of the shop just out of the corner of her eye.

"Tell me where my pick is - and I'll let you go!"

He chuckled and managed to groan at the same time, "It's - at - the - offices - _bitch!"_ Apparently, she had succeeded in making him very, very angry. And apparently, he thought her pick was safe there.

Starting to flail frantically, he decided to slam her into the nearest wall - which was actually a window. Glass rained down on them both as they rolled across stone and pavement. She felt a sharp cut in her cheek and against her chest but managed to roll up to her feet all the same, going automatically into a fighting stance with her dagger out.

He lay on the ground on his side. The moment she spotted him, he looked up and met her eyes. "The offices you say? Well it's been fun, Longbottom." and she grabbed her wand from its holster and Apparated on the spot.

oOo

"Oh my god!" he heard Les shout. "She just Apparated! She just…! Apparated! Just like that! Did she Splinch herself?! No one Apparates anymore!"

Groaning, he spit glass and blood from his mouth and managed to get up on his feet. He automatically reached for his phone, intending to let Harry and Bobbi know that a hostile was on the way to the offices. "Bloody. Fucking. Hell! Hastings! Give me your phone!"

"Phone?! What's a phone?"

Neville felt his teeth clench. "Hastings, you're useless."

"Aw man I know but you! You were amazing! You two… you guys should teach the new recruits! That was amazing…" he repeated. "I can't believe she Apparated. Haven't seen anyone do that in so long! The dangers of using Apparation these days are significant-"

He tuned out Les and kicked the ground before running off to the Leaky Cauldron. The fastest way to the offices would be the Floo network but he was afraid it would be too late.

Why the hell was he always chasing after that girl?!

oOo

She spent exactly twenty seconds straightening herself up and clearing away blood and dust and glass from her body. Then she walked into the offices like she belonged there, and no one stopped her either. People were bustling about, coming and going with quick paced steps because they had places to be and people to see. The trick to looking like you belonged somewhere was acting like you were far too busy to stop and chat.

She got to the main receptionist's desk and cut the polite looking witch off before she could even start. "Neville Longbottom's office, please." she snapped impatiently.

"Name?"

"Daphne Greengrass, I have an appointment." her tone was rude and, again, impatient.

The witch narrowed her eyes and stuck up her nose before rattling off an office number on the bottom floor.

"Thanks for wasting half a minute of my very valuable time!" Pansy told her as she briskly walked to the stairs. As soon as the door shut behind her she took the stairs two at a time until she reached the bottom floor, and tentatively took a look around the corner. No one she immediately recognized walked by, so she stepped into the hall and looked for the correct office number. 001, 002, 003, 004, 005… and 006. She pushed the door open and stepped inside as quickly as she could.

Pansy exhaled. She was in Neville Longbottom's office.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

(Where Pansy asks about Neville's 'Hardware' and a Wolf enters the fray)

* * *

The Star Crystal ball was hers! Thank her lucky stars, because this had been the hardest job she'd taken so far and it had gone off without a hitch. Patience wasn't her forte, but she was learning. And in this job, it was necessary. The research was the hard part, figuring out where the ball was, how to get it, when was the best time to lift it, any obstacles she'd have to overcome to get it. She'd spent weeks doing the research and what felt like seconds actually executing it.

Her brand new ward picks broke through Mrs. Barley's wards in no time at all, tearing them down without effort. The old lady had been sound asleep and none the wiser to the intruder in her home if her loud snores were any indication. Pansy slipped through the old house on light feet, making no noise, her hood pulled up, and her breath steady.

It was exactly what she was meant to do, and it was fun as hell.

She'd found the centuries old crystal ball in a silk lined wooden box and slipped it into her black bag before throwing it over her shoulder and leaving the way she'd came.

No problems.

Well, until she touched the handle on the front door. She'd checked for wards on the outside of the door, but hadn't thought to look on the inside either.

It went off the moment her gloved fingers brushed against the metal with a loud wail that shook the house.

A loud series of pops and three house elves appeared in the front foyer.

"Shit." Pansy pushed the closest elf away as she flung the door wide open, no longer caring how loud she was, and took off through the overly large front lawn and hopped over the front gate with all the hard earned grace she'd been training daily for.

She hit the street right as a loud crack split the air and she saw two tall figures dressed in cloaks appear by the church down the street. The little town was quiet during the night, but light burned magically in tall posts along the main street giving her just enough to make out the distinctive shape of Auror's Robes.

The town was small, but all magical. No Muggles around to be wary of, the Auror's wouldn't have to be delicate in their search for her.

She swore under her breath and hunched down low, moving along the gated wall of the Barley Estate thinking only of the huge payout she'd get if she delivered the Star Crystal Ball to her client and how it would provide her with more than enough to leave this horrible country and escape to greener and sunnier pastures.

Two blocks over she looked over her shoulder and, seeing no one else around, crossed the street hurrying to get back to the shadows.

"Hey! You there!"

"Oh fuck off."

She broke out into a full sprint, running away from the voice she didn't recognize. It was the thing she was best at, her feet quick and her stride light even as her boots hit the cobbled street. She hit the edge of the little town minutes later and slunk into the darkest corner she could find, searching for any sign she'd been followed.

She waited, impatient and annoyed, for a full minute before she stood and - _smack!_

Tangled up, a heavy body fell on top of her bringing them both down to the ground. Her hands came up to the man's shoulders, because it was certainly a man tall and bulky as he was, as they fell, and in confusion she held on tight. Really tight.

And she liked what she felt. It had been _months_ since her and Theo had broken up for the second time and she wasn't too proud to admit how hard up she felt. Hard muscle lay beneath the man's robes, his shoulders broad and hearty. But she barely had a moment to think on it before they hit the ground and her breath knocked out of her.

They managed to land with her beneath him, her hands still clutching onto his shoulders, and she breathed in a clean, male scent as his body pressed into hers. Her bag with the Star Crystal Ball rolled away, following the side of the road and out of sight. But in that moment, she didn't care.

The man on top of her was hard and rigid and pressing her into the ground. It was hot. It was so, so hot.

Until she got a look at his face.

"Neville Longbottom!?"

"Pansy _Parkinson!?"_

"Eww! Get off me! What's the matter with you!?"

"You _thief!_ Give back the crystal ball you stole!"

And then, because the whole situation wasn't bad enough, her brain decided to assault her with images of her riding him, her fingers digging into those perfectly hard shoulders of his. She wanted to gag.

She _did_ gag, in fact, as she shimmied out from underneath him and ran after her bag. He clumsily tripped over his own big feet and she took advantage immediately. Stupid Neville Longbottom, who in the right mind thought it would be a good idea to make _him_ an Auror!? He was the clumsiest idiot!

"Come back here!" he shouted.

"Watch where you're fucking going next time, Longbottom!" she scooped up the strap of her bag, pausing only to ensure her loot was still inside, and took off at a run into the night.

"I'll catch you, Parkinson!"

"Yeah right!" she shouted back before she whipped out her seldom used wand and Apparated away.

oOo

Quick and quiet as a mouse, she pulled her phone from her back pocket as she started going through the papers and files on Longbottom's messy desk. Nothing important, mostly, she assumed, documents on the serial case he was working on. Wolf murders. She hadn't been back in town long enough to catch up with every bit of news but she _had_ heard that Edina Nelson had been one of the victims.

Pansy's 7th year hadn't exactly been a cake show, but it'd been easier for her than others. Like the little girls Amycus liked to prey on. Like little second year Edina. The thing was that at seventeen Pansy looked a lot younger than she was, and it was easy to convince Amycus to play with her instead.

But Edina was just one of many bodies. She felt badly for the girls, especially when she read the description about the sexual assault a 'Colette Michelson' endured before they finally offed her.

It hit a little too close to home.

Her eyes narrowed when she read about how Glimmer was forced into her body prior to the sexual assault, along the girl's arms and thighs. Her own personal hell was being shared by others, apparently. She'd had no idea. How many were there, she wondered as she snapped photos of every file, every picture. Each one made her angrier and angrier.

There were a lot.

She picked up the pace, intuition a whisper against her neck. She had bare minutes before she needed to get out. She wasn't going to stick around and pick a fight with Longbottom again, though fighting with him seemed to be her new favorite activity. What could she say? It was fun. But this was his turf.

She glanced up and saw herself staring back. A picture of her from China, close up and moments after an Earthquake struck and she lost grip of the most valuable diamond _in the world,_ watched as it bounced away and down a drain. With a big red X drawn through her face.

Of all the pictures! She jerked Longbottom's cell from her back pocket and took a very sexy selfie, making sure to get as much cleavage in the picture as possible. She took a few more, and left it for him to find on his desk. Then she noticed a different form, an urgent message _about her,_ lying to the side of his messy desk. _._

The tip off.

Growling, she snapped another photo and read the name out loud: Garrett Buchanan.

"Who the fuck is that?" she put the paper back where she found it and then turned to the board behind her. One side outlined three family trees, Vistain's, Fawley's, and Barton's. The Wolf Families.

Nasty business. Most talked about how brutal and cutthroat the Barton's could get, and the Fawley's were just violent, reckless morons, but she would take on all the Fawley's and Barton's at once rather than face any of the Vistain's. Cold and merciless, they were. And smart. They didn't take any of the Glimmer they dealt, unlike the other two families. Marcus Barton was a friend of hers, but he was a dumb bastard that indulged in the shit he dealt. His father, Chester Barton was smarter but allowed his sons far too much leeway.

Somehow, Barton was the one that got the biggest and baddest rep of all the family heads. Maybe because he was the first to go public, but Pansy knew different. Chester's priority was his family first, the revel's his founding idea. Sure they could get a bit rowdy, but it was far better than letting thousands of angry wolves roam the countryside with complete disorder. At least the revels kept them together and contained to the same general area.

Matthias and Marva Fawley were the ones that decided to actually turn their children when they themselves had been infected with lycanthropy, they consolidated their power by turning only their bloodlines.

Then the Barton's and Vistain's followed suit, the Ministry rebelled, and in all the chaos the three families became the top dogs. Literally. And since purposefully turning wolves became illegal with no trial and a one way trip to Azkaban, the families had no competition.

But Pansy had met Alden Vistain. The man had no soul and his two sons were even worse. She was sure he had been a private Voldemort supporter back in the day, because her papa had been somewhat friendly with the man. Being a wolf didn't make you automatically violent, but being a Vistain did.

She didn't need a picture of the family trees, she was more than informed already. The other side of the board had pictures of a lot of dead witches. She snapped photos of that before she got too engrossed and decided she was going to have a talk with Marcus and get some information…

Her fingers came up to the picture right in the middle, a dark skinned witch with curly hair and a mangled body. A question mark was written above it and she felt a punch to the gut for these witches for the first time.

"Sarah…" she whispered and shook her head.

"You know her?"

She whipped around and pushed herself against the board behind her. "That was fast. You usually that quick to the mark?"

Longbottom crossed his arms, his entire frame taking up the doorway. He was looking beat the hell up, bandage on his hand, bruises on his jaw, cuts from glass, shirt torn(again), blood crusted his head. A 5 o'clock shadow brushed the hard edges of his face.

She blinked and felt heat and true attraction rise up in her belly.

"It was obvious where you were going. Though, you got balls Parkinson, Apparating like that." he told her and his stance told her he thought there was _no way_ she was getting out of this place.

"Hmm, big balls." she slid her hand down her torso and used her fingers to push her thigh aside. "Wanna see?"

As usual, he ignored her posturing. "It might've worked, but here you are. Trapped, in my own office."

"Ooohhh? What are you going to do to me?" her voice was breathy.

"You're ridiculous."

"And you're an idiot if you think I'm trapped."

"You rushed off before I could really gloat…" and he smirked, making her stomach jump. He reached into his pocket and withdrew her beloved pick.

Her bright eyes flashed in surprise. _Son of a bitch..._ "I picked that pocket…"

"You took the phone and didn't think to look for more. Sloppy, Parkinson. Sloppy."

"Are you _gloating_ , Longbottom?" she laughed loudly. "I like that."

"So how about a trade?"

"Oh let me guess…" her teeth came out and made a show of biting down on her lip. "I give you The Fern, and you give me my pick? I'm afraid I'm going to have to say no. Not gonna happen."

"My boss would want me to make that deal but no - I'll get The Fern later."

Her eyes narrowed in intrigue. That _smug bastard._ "And what is it that you want, Neville Longbottom?"

He looked to this unidentified victim. "What do you know about that witch?"

She blinked and reached into her back pocket, pulling out a cigarette and popping it between her teeth. "Got a light?"

Then she had the pleasure of watching him struggle with himself, watching the hard line of his jaw tense as his teeth clenched and all the while his dark brown eyes bore into her without blinking. She knew he hated playing games with her. This way he had to decide to play along if he wanted answers. And she knew how badly he wanted those answers. She tapped into her patience and held his gaze, using her tongue to move her cigarette back and forth between her teeth.

The clock against the wall ticked and tocked as the minutes passed and she spent them admiring the stretch of his shoulders beneath that fine leather jacket, the hard line of his strong arms, the rough edges of his knuckles.

And she wondered why she was attracted to these things? The shoulders she still didn't understand. And those knuckles told her he could take out most grown men with a single swing. But she'd been on the receiving end of a punch from those knuckles, and knew she could handle it once... or twice. She knew the exact feeling of those knuckles against her jaw and if she were smart, that would scare her half to death. But thinking she could handle Neville Longbottom was making her stomach flutter.

Apparently she was an idiot.

Finally, those knuckles cracked and he stepped the few feet around his desk and stopped in front of her, bringing out his wand. He loomed over her, doing his damn hardest to be intimidating and burly and _tall_. She didn't back up, and not because she was already pressed against the wall. She would never back down, especially not from Neville Sticking Longbottom. She wasn't threatened by his posture one bit.

Instead she leaned her head back and shifted her shoulders, pushing up her breasts just enough that they barely brushed against his shirt.

Just enough for him to feel it.

Sadly, he didn't respond, not even a blink. Instead he shook his wand and attempted to form fire. Once, twice. The third time it worked and he cupped the flame against the tip of her cigarette, lighting it without a word with his unblinking gaze staring down at her.

It was the single sexiest thing that had happened to her in a long time.

Until he put his wand away and braced his hand against the wall by her head. She sucked on her cigarette and blew smoke in his face just to distract herself. "Okay, Longbottom. Give me my pick and I'll answer your questions."

She felt his breath when he replied, it smelled like coffee and mint. "Answer my questions and I'll give you your pick."

"Give me my pick… And I'll answer your questions _honestly._ " Because information was _nothing_ compared to her pick.

That got his teeth clenching even harder than before, the muscles in his neck tensing as his jaw stood out in sharp relief. Finally, maybe reluctantly, he pushed her pick into her front pocket and the warmth of his hand pressed into her skin through her jeans.

"Talk. Now."

She sucked in a breath and dropped her cigarette to the ground, stepping into him as she stomped it out. Still he didn't respond to her closeness. "Bossing me around? I like this side of you. We should figure out a safe word. How about Pineapple Fudge Pop? Well that's three words but you know what I mean-"

"About. The. Witch."

"Sarah Whittler." she watched his eyes darken and she wondered why she ever thought they were a boring brown?

"Whittler?" he asked quietly.

She nodded and looked over her shoulder to the other witch she recognized. "Kath's baby sister."

oOo

Something in her voice made him pause, the slightest of hitches when she said 'baby sister'. He might not have noticed it if he wasn't so close to her, and how exactly had he gotten so close? "You're lying." but he wasn't sure.

"Surprisingly I'm not. I know them both. But obviously not well enough to be informed of their deaths."

"Sisters? You know who her mate is?" why couldn't he breathe?

"I do." she smiled wickedly.

"Give me a name-" he grabbed her arm.

"What am I interrupting here?"

He turned and suddenly he could breathe again. "Hal." - "Hally?" He blinked. Had she said… _Hally?_

"Damn girl. What kind of trouble you in now?"

Hal was a big man, a wolf. Taller than Ron, bulkier than Neville, and he wasn't sure how the wolf found any clothes that fit. A dusty beard came down halfway to his chest. Scars crisscrossed all over his tan roughened skin and tattoos inked the rest. Most people were terrified at first sight of the wolf, but that wolf owed Neville a few favors and they had always been friendly.

But he wasn't prepared for the moment Parkinson jumped into Hal's arms and and planted a kiss right on his mouth.

"Girl, you tryin' to make that man jealous or sumthin?"

"Maybe." she replied with a shrug. "But that doesn't change the fact that I'm happy to see you."

Hal hugged Parkinson once more before setting her on her own two feet. Then he brought a dirty finger up to the cut on her head and his demeanor changed completely. "Who hurt you?"

"Get out of here Hally, you know I can take care of myself." she said, slapping his hand away. But her smile was real, and it creeped Neville out.

In fact, the entire exchange confused the hell out of him. "You two friends, I assume?"

The look Parkinson gave him could cut. "I don't have friends." she snapped harshly at him.

"Not surprising in the least." he snapped back. "Hal you're going to have to come back later, I'm busy right now."

"I can see that. I'll wait outside, boss." he gave a two fingered salute, then to Parkinson he said, "You gunna get arrested today girl, or you wanna meet up later?"

"He's been trying to arrest me, so far bad luck. I'll meet you later." and the little she-devil actually winked at Neville.

Hal laughed as he left the office, shutting the door loudly as he went.

Then Neville turned onto Parkinson and pushed her into the chair across from his desk. "Time to talk. And remember… honest answers."

She settled in the chair, though he could tell she was prepared to jump up at a moment's notice if need be. Her fingers played with the strings across her chest and he had to keep himself from glancing down as she did. She looked up at him with indigo colored eyes that seemed to laugh at him even as he towered over her.

He always forgot how tiny she really was until she was up close. It didn't matter though, she was the only woman that ever inspired true violence out of him. Sometimes he imagined squeezing her neck until her eyes popped out of her head. But that fantasy was for when he was really pissed off. Usually he just thought about locking her up and turning the key. That was his favorite. Hearing the lock turn into place would be the sweetest sound to his ears.

"What's the matter, Longbottom? You don't trust me? Why do you have so much trouble trusting women?"

"I don't have-"

"Do your trust issues stem from family problems? Or problems with the ladies? Why don't you have a girlfriend?"

"That's none of your business-"

"Is it a … hardware issue?" she asked in a concerned whisper, looking pointedly downwards to the top of his jeans.

He reached out and grabbed at her jean pocket, pulling her forward. "Start talking or I will break this damn pick in half."

"I said I'd answer your questions honestly. And I will."

"Then _talk."_ he said through clenched teeth.

"That is Sarah, I'm positive. We're … acquaintances."

"You said you knew who her mate is."

"I did say that, didn't I?"

"Parkinson." Why did she have to be endlessly frustrating? Made worse every time with her dramatic, useless eye rolls. But then her face shifted ever so slightly from its usual teasing laughter. "What?" he demanded.

"Longbottom… don't get involved."

Stunned, he didn't respond right away. Because she actually sounded concerned. And he had never heard such a tone from her before. "It's too late for that. This is _my_ case."

"Is it worth your life?"

"I've made promises to those girl's families that I would find who did this and bring them to justice."

Her eyes danced with cold fire. "And you keep your promises don't you?"

"Every last one of them."

A knock as his door opened and he jumped back, unsure of how he'd ended up so close to Parkinson in the first place. "Hey LB - there's a man here to see ya. Your gonna wanna make some time for him." Hal said and the door swung open all the way.

The man next standing next to Hal was his opposite. They were both tall, but where Hal was dirty and rough, this man was impeccably groomed and wearing a nice suit, his dark hair slicked back and perfectly combed.

And the mere sight of him made Parkinson jump out of the chair and hide herself behind Neville, her dagger out between one breath and the next. He glimpsed true fear in her eyes for the first time. Ever.

The moment was so surprising, Neville hadn't a clue what to say or do.

"Ms. Parkinson. What a delightful surprise. I didn't realize you were back in the country." The man entered the room as if he belonged there, his suit crisp and expensive, his leather shoes shining.

"You stay the _hell away_ from me Ellis Vistain!"

"Do the Italians know you're here? Oh dear… I was surprised enough to see Henry but you my sweet, this is a real treat indeed."

Neville hated the man already. His first impression was of arrogance and conceit, and in Neville's experience that meant this man was going to be difficult to deal with.

Or should he say wolf? Vistain. Ellis Vistain was the first born son of Alden Vistain, the head of one of the wolf families. How long had he been itching to get one of them in his office and get some questions answered? But seeing the fearful reaction of the fearless witch clinging to his back made him want to throw the damn wolf out on his ass. And he didn't even like Parkinson.

"Kiss my ass, Vistain! And stay away from me! And you stay away from _her!"_

The emphasis on that last word made him do a double take. Who was she talking about?

"Your mother is a nuisance. And I've always believed having you would bring her to heel." the man smirked at his own wolf reference and didn't seem to care one bit that Neville stood between him and Parkinson. His eyes seem to bulge from his head, gleaming maniacally as he watched her with intense focus. He wanted to _own_ Parkinson, Neville thought.

Then Ellis Vistain said, "I've always wanted to put a collar on you, maybe a muzzle."

Hal cleared his throat at that statement and said, "Mr. Vistain, I don't think -"

"Know your place, Henry." And Hal immediately lowered his head, shrinking to the background.

"Can I help you with something?" Neville decided to enter the conversation, because Hal was a tough son of a bitch and he had never seen the wolf back down from anyone or anything.

"Ah yes. Auror Longbottom I presume?" Ellis met his eyes and Neville knew this wolf was _dangerous._

"That'd be me. What can I do for you?"

"You can start by handing over that little thief hanging from your back, then perhaps we could speak about a missing wolf of mine? His mate is also missing, however her photo was released by your boss Mrs. Barbara O'Donnell this morning."

"Sure we can speak. But Parkinson has been arrested and is in my custody. I cannot release her." he could tell this wolf wasn't used to anyone saying no to him.

"I apologize, the moment swept me up before I could formally introduce myself. I'm Ellis Vistain." he held his arm out to shake hands. Neville gripped the man's hand and they both squeezed tightly.

Wolves were stronger than humans, it was just fact. But by some freak potion accident Neville was stronger, and he enjoyed when Vistain's smirk faded from his pompous face and the wolf let go first.

"Pleasure."

Neville gave a single nod and stepped back, feeling the heat of Parkinson against his back. Her fingers dug into his jacket. He'd have to choose.

The snake at his back, or the wolf in front of him. They both had information on his case, they both had something he wanted.

 _Don't get involved…_

That tone of concern, so strange coming from her when he was used to bitchy retorts and smooth lies, seemed to burrow into his mind until it was all he could think about. Was she trying to protect him from something? It was certainly too late, this case was his to solve. He claimed it, decided on it. He wouldn't rest until it was done and the killer was either locked up or dead.

Would it be so bad handing over Parkinson to the wolf? The information he'd get from speaking with a Vistain might be worth it… but… He wanted to put a collar on her, a muzzle he said. Was that worse than his fantasy of locking her up?

Yep, he decided. Parkinson was the biggest pain in the ass, but she was _his_ pain in the ass to deal with. And Parkinson seemed more than aware of the wolves. She _knew_ them. He chose.

"Let me get Ms. Parkinson here situated and then we can speak."

"Very well."

And Neville knew he'd made an enemy of Ellis Vistain.

"Sheath your dagger, Parkinson. No one can hurt you while I'm here."

Her eyes turned murderous, a cold fire lighting them with inner fury, and he didn't know if it was because of what he said or because of Vistain. But her hand was steady as she slid her dagger beneath her jacket and out of sight. He grabbed her by the arm and marched her by the two wolves.

Vistain leaned in as they passed by. "She looked so innocent last Moon… so breakable." and Neville felt his heart jump. Was Parkinson's mother a wolf?

oOo

They got all the way down the hall before she broke his hold, Posy the only thing on her mind. "Get the _fuck_ off me!"

People poked their heads out of their offices, looking for the source of all the noise they were making, but she didn't care. She pivoted and attempted to run, because that's what she was good at. Running _the fuck_ away. Vistain's words were fresh in her mind, so much so she could've sworn he was still right next to her whispering just how breakable Posy could be. She was _nine._ She was just a little girl. It didn't matter that she was also a wolf, Posy was as delicate as Pansy was tough.

Where Pansy liked playing with knives and running around getting dirty and making trouble, Posy wanted to play dress up and play with her dolls.

But Neville grabbed her arm again and held tight, tight enough she couldn't break his hold again, and continued dragging her down the hallway and down a hidden set of stairs. It hurt enough to distract. It hurt enough that her earlier anger came back full force.

"I'm actually relieved I'm not the only one you annoy, Parkinson."

"Fuck you, Longbottom!" she shouted as he dragged her down a dark stairwell.

"I've learned something today!" he shouted back at her. "You get cranky when you're scared shitless!"

"Kiss my ass!" She started kicking and screaming.

They reached the bottom of the stairwell and he literally threw her into a dark room before slamming the door behind them. A light switch flipped and flooded the large room, the walls covered in mirrors, the floor a mat. A training room, empty except for them.

He pinned her to the wall before she could catch her breath. "You _owe me_."

"I don't-"

"You owe me _big fucking time."_

"What do you want?!" she spit in his face.

"You stay right here until after my conversation with Mr. Vistain, safe and sound until we can finish our conversation from earlier." His tone was final and he left through the same door they entered from, the door slamming shut.

"Piece of shit Auror!" she kicked the door and went for the handle. Except there wasn't one. "One way door?! Are you joking?! You're dead, Longbottom! I'm going to kill you! I'll cut off your balls and make you eat them, you son of a bitch!"

Enraged, she felt out of control. Her hard fought control, in shreds. And all it had taken was the mere sight of Ellis Vistain. She swung her fist around and pounded it into the mirrored wall shattering glass, the pain nothing to the hurt in her heart. _So innocent. So breakable._

Face against the glass, she took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Tried to think… Ellis Vistain, wolf, rich douchebag, but he was a master manipulator, was he lying? Theo said mommy dearest had a prison built for Posy. Could Pearl Parkinson still love her baby enough to let Posy run with the other wolves during the moon? No… No. Pearl was far too possessive to let Posy out on her own. Despite her "flaw", Pearl actually loved Posy… at least… she did once upon a time. Posy was the daughter she never had.

The last full moon was days ago, and Theo would have known if something had happened to Posy. He would have known, she repeated to herself.

A deep breath.

An exhale.

The mirror in front of her fogged. She needed to clear her mind, because this wasn't her turf and Longbottom wouldn't take long before he came back to her. He had her trapped… finally caught.

She looked at herself in the mirror and focused. Her fists unclenched, her breaths evened out, and she reigned in her rage, regaining control. Taking it back with each breath until she stood, light on her feet, dagger against her back, and smirk on her face.

The door opened a moment later, and a group of Pats walked in laughing with each other until they spotted her.

Game on.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** I am overjoyed with the reviews on this story! Thanks everyone! Please remember there is **VIOLENCE** in this story and in this chapter too.

* * *

Chapter Nine

(Parkinson vs the entire staff at the offices, Round 1)

Neville Longbottom had had _enough._

He personally escorted Ellis Vistain from the property after a tense conversation about a wolf named David Rowe, who was last seen on the Full Moon. His mate was Sarah Whittler, Neville's newest wolf murder. She died hurt and violated and he wanted to find this David Rowe and beat the ever living shit out of the wolf for leaving his mate to such a fate. He made a silent promise to himself. There would be no more victims. He wasn't playing around anymore, he wasn't going to follow the letter of the law, he wasn't going to sit around waiting for a break in this case. Not another minute.

He was solving this case and putting anyone responsible behind bars for the rest of their miserable lives.

It was difficult to get any hard information out of Vistain, but Neville had the feeling that Rowe and maybe Sarah Whittler had been his main dealers, otherwise why would he care so much about a missing wolf? He had identified Sarah's body without an ounce of sympathy in his tone, brushing her off without a single afterthought. Like she was disposable. Nothing.

If he hadn't hated the wolf already, that would have done it for Neville. But he did sense a touch of disappointment when Vistain spoke of Rowe, which meant Rowe was likely useful to Vistain in some way. The cold bastard was more worried about David Rowe than the fact there seemed to be a serial killer hunting women.

He rubbed the scar on his shoulder as he walked back towards his office, deep in thought. How did Rowe fit in with his murders? If Rowe was Vistain's main dealer, was Sarah targeted to get to the wolf family? Or was this an unlucky coincidence?

Was someone fucking with the families in a big way? He would have to look back at the previous victims and figure out if they had more wolf connections. He pictured Katherine Whittler. Katherine was identified by a Pat, an old school friend, because her parents had died when she was young and no one reported the girl missing. The Pat hadn't mentioned a sister or any other close family for that matter.

But if her sister was a wolfmate, that was a wolf connection. Maybe the other victims had a connection too.

He reached his office door where Hal leaned against the wall, looking downcast and subdued. Not a look Neville had ever seen from him. Hal scared most people with just a look, but Neville knew he was just a big teddy bear on the inside, happy and lazy unless provoked… and good Gryffindor Hal was not a wolf you wanted to provoke. Just how fucking scary could Ellis Vistain get?

"Boss."

"You wanna tell me what the hell that was all about?"

"Nope. Wolf stuff. What'd you do with my girl?"

"Your girl?" Neville crossed his arms and thought about that. How many times had he heard Parkinson loudly screaming about how she didn't have any friends? He'd always thought she was complaining and whining like a little brat about it. But he was starting to think something else was going on there, because she had people that cared for her. Hal being one, obviously.

"Yep. And I'm spottin' those cuts and bruises on your knuckles and I'm spottin' those cuts and bruises on her too. Mighty big coincidence if you ask me."

"You know, she doesn't strike me as the kind of girl who needs your protection."

"That don't matter. She been through hell and if she snaps her fingers and tells me to sic 'em, ima sic 'em. Even you boss, much as I like ya."

Neville couldn't wrap his head around that, not one bit. Parkinson was a _pain in the ass._ She didn't have a single redeeming quality… how did she inspire such loyalty from Hal? Because they slept together? Maybe?

No one was that good in bed.

Shaking his head, Neville said, "She's a pain in the ass, Hal."

"That just means she likes ya. If you didn't matter, she wouldn't give you the time of day."

Neville snorted. "You need to get your head checked. But she's safe. I stashed her in the training room because no one but staff can enter alone. Do you have some information for me?"

"Aye. Though I'm sure Mr. Vistain filled you in some already. The last revel was rowdy, boss. Worse than usual. There's less product goin' 'round, I heard."

"You mean less Glimmer?"

"Aye. It's causin' some tension between the families I think…"

"Because they compete with each other."

"There was a rumor goin' 'round few months ago, didn't think much of it at the time… one of them twins, Neva, got caught sleepin' 'round with Sean Barton."

"Neva Fawley? That can't be good." The Fawley's liked to breed. Matthias and Marva had five children, twins Neva and Nedra, and three boys doing their best to populate England with more Fawley's. Reyes, Rupert, and Reuben over the course of a decade or so had 5 wives between them and about 20 kids. Neville couldn't keep the Fawley family tree in line, it was far too big. Thankfully the timeline was too short, and none of the kids had a chance to be changed before it was made illegal. But Neville had no doubt that had been the original plan.

It was all about power these days.

Of course, that meant the head of the families wouldn't be too happy to hear their children had been fooling around together.

"Got anything else for me?" he asked Hal. This case was giving him a fucking migraine.

"You heard about that Rowe? I'm guessin' that's what Mr. Vistain was here to tell ya."

"Yeah it was."

"I didn't know him… but I did hear something about that wolf. He loved his mate, never let her go to the revels even though she would have been protected."

"I'm not really familiar with how the mate thing works."

"It's a private thing for sure, but it's law. You cannot touch another wolf's mate."

"You can't physically touch a mate, or it's punishable to touch a mate?" Neville asked, his head whirling with the new information.

"Both, boss. It hurts, like a Cruciatus. The families won't allow it, if they bring you up on charges of touchin' another's mate, you might as well go cut your own throat. A swift death would be a mercy. Family is too important to them. To us."

"Alright, thanks for going to the revel for me. You need anything?"

"Nah boss. You keep my girl safe and we'll call it even. I'll let ya know if I hear anythin' else."

Hal left with a salute and Neville walked to his door, leaning against the frame and trying to put the thoughts in his head in proper order.

The wolf families kept control by holding the revels and selling Glimmer for money.

Someone, possibly a human, was using the Full Moon and the revels to murder and rape women, dumping them on the streets of London for the Auror's to find.

The women had all been exposed to Glimmer just prior to death, which meant his serial killer, wolf or not, had either easy access to the drug or a lot of money to buy it.

David Rowe was likely a dealer for the Vistain's and his mate ended up being a victim while Rowe went missing.

There was one thing Neville did know about wolves… they were possessive about people they considered theirs as demonstrated by Hal. And Parkinson wasn't even the wolf's mate.

Sometime during the last full moon something happened to that got Rowe missing and Sarah Whittler dead.

"If the killer has easy access to Glim, he runs in the same circles as the wolves… that's where he targets his victims. How upset would the wolves be if their friends and loved ones were being targeted?" he asked himself…

He realized more and more people were making their way downstairs to the training room. One of the receptionists walked by with a few Pats. Then a few of the new recruits. Les walked by with a few of the trainers and the man gave him a huge smile and thumbs up. Then a huge group of Pats and Aurors and even one Hit Wizard rushed quickly by him and hit the hidden stairs at a run and he realized what was in the training room…

Parkinson.

"Shit!" he took off down the hallway and got stuck behind what was surely the entire staff of the offices trying to get downstairs. The stairwell was so narrow they had to file in one by one. "Move! Get out of way!"

He felt like he was crawling over people, pushing them aside and shouting for them to get the hell out of his way, for a lot longer than it actually took to get the training room. He stomped in pushed his way to the front of the crowd, which had formed a circle. He bumped into Harry and Ron, and they stepped aside let him finally see.

Chris Avery and a group of Pats were fighting. But not with each other, with Parkinson.

And she was winning.

"What the hell is going on here?" he asked Harry, and it seemed to be the question of the day.

"I came down here looking for Hermione and I heard Avery say something rather… rude to Parkinson. Next thing I knew they were brawling. I went to stop it but she doesn't really need any help."

He snorted. Parkinson would run Avery in circles, the man was an idiot.

"They could use the experience," Ron commented. "Total bitch she might be, but she could definitely teach the newbies a thing or two… should've seen her when it first happened. Poor Andy..."

Did he hear a hint of admiration in Ron's voice? Couldn't be…

They all hated Pansy Parkinson. She was a thief, no morals, a criminal. She deserved to be locked up, not drawing a crowd of admirers.

"Why hasn't anyone stepped in to stop this?" he growled. If anything happened to Parkinson, she had information he needed bad… she was good, but the odds were against her. There were a lot more Pats than her, and any one of them was capable of landing a lucky blow. But then Neville really concentrated on what he was seeing and he stopped thinking.

Parkinson was just so _fast._

Her dagger was lodged in one of the mirror panels along the wall, and the moment he spotted it it seemed to wink at him. The fight was all hand to hand, her against five fully trained Pats, and it wasn't going well for the Pats. They lunged at her and she dodged with quick feet, using their own momentum to push them off balance and land hits. Avery bled from brow and lip, the other Pats hosting similar cuts on their faces and none of them could get a grip on Parkinson.

He was so caught up with the fight that he didn't realize there were a couple of guys already taken out of the fight, being looked at by the spectators. He was too focused on her face, whenever he got a glimpse of it. It was pinched in concentration, her attention 100% on the fight before her.

"Wow…" the receptionist on duty managed to wedge herself between Neville and Harry. "That Daphne Greengrass is a bitch but she does know how to fight!"

"That's not Daphne Greengrass." Neville sighed. He needed to stop this.

Avery got smart and went for her hair, grabbing onto the dark strands tightly, he yanked her hard, smashing her face into the glass. Her body turned to the side, her hand whipping up to grab onto Avery's neck and she pushed his head down just as she slammed her knee up into his nose with a sickening crunch.

The crowd gasped.

Avery's grip loosened and he stumbled into the crowd moaning, falling to his knees, and Parkinson spun again to avoid the other Pats, kicking out and knocking Avery over for good. In the same move, she managed to unbuckle one Pat's belt with a haughty laugh. Then she landed three hard smacks to the side of his head as her other hand came out and blocked one Pat from landing a punch. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him forward into the other Pat where they slammed together, knocking heads as they did. She pulled out the unbuckled belt and swung it around to hit a third Pat across the face with a loud _crack!_

"That was bloody brilliant!" Ron gasped.

Enough was enough. Neville went to step in just as the fourth Pat rushed at her and she danced around him with a wide spin. Neville caught her ankle but she launched off Neville as if they had planned it, wrapping the belt around the poor Pat and trapping his arms. The force knocked Neville back into the crowd and on his ass. He rolled up just in time to see her slamming her foot into the Pat's knee and he went down with a scream.

He tried to grab onto her, but she was already gone, whipping the belt across the face of the Pat she'd stolen it from. The man's hand came up to the bloodied cut across his cheek and she kicked out his legs from underneath him. Humphries was the Pat's name, and the cut across his face looked sharp. She spun and kicked the second to last Pat in the chest, sending him soaring into the crowd before coming back to Humphries and gripping his hair, forcing his head back.

She turned on the last man standing and smiled maniacally, the bloody belt swinging from her hand like a whip while she held Humphries in place.

Noah, the last Pat, raised his hands in surrender and slowly backed up. The fight over just like that.

She dropped the belt to the ground and walked over to Avery, grabbing his hair and pulling his head back with a hard yank, just as she'd done to Humphries. "Grab my ass ever again and I'll cut your balls off and feed them to your grandmother."

Neville turned to Harry and scowled, rubbing his backside. Avery had two citations for inappropriate behavior with the female receptionist that worked on the weekends. He probably came to the training room thinking Parkinson would be easy pickings. The moron.

"Yeah - I know." Harry frowned.

"Who else wants to fight? Anyone want a piece of this? I didn't think so!" Pansy shouted dramatically, kicking Avery as she walked to the middle of the circle. "Unless your name is Neville Longbottom you don't have a chance."

He had to agree, but if Magic cooperated, she didn't stand a chance against half the people in this room. They were all trained in wandwork by Harry. Then his hand started itching. That fight was a lot different from the fights they usually had and he hated to admit why.

Because she liked to fight with him, she dragged it out, played with him. She took out those Pats with little fanfare, though she'd been happy to do so. It had been quick and clean. Well, except for Avery. But Neville found it hard to have any sympathy for the man.

His finger rubbed against the scar on his shoulder. Why did she like fighting with him? He'd always assumed that was just how she was, enjoyed the violence, the thrill…

"I demand my lawyer! Where is Harry Potter? I want my lawyer! Draco Malfoy is his name and I demand to see him immediately!" she turned and spotted Neville. Her face lit up. "Oh - hi honey."

"Honey?" Ron laughed. And he wasn't the only one. The crowd began to disperse now that the fight was over and he noticed Les hopping up and down as if Christmas had come early, but several of the trainers were sticking around. Surely hoping to get a chance to talk to her.

"Enjoying yourself Parkinson? You just assaulted five patrols-"

"Eight." she snapped.

"In. Front. Of. The. Entire. Offices."

"Well he started it." she said pointing to Avery. "I want my lawyer. It was self defense!"

"She hit Humphries across the face with his own belt." Harry said in awe, rubbing the back of his neck. He shook his head afterward and shrugged. "I guess I'll clean up here and go call Malfoy. Didn't realize he was still working."

Neville found himself moving forward, ignoring Harry completely. "Self defense? You beat the shit out of them! Who cares who started it, this was assault! We had a deal!"

"Yes but I didn't realize your 'deal' would put me in harm's way! I was sexually harassed!" she stepped closer.

He groaned, throwing up his hands. "You're ridiculous! You're perfectly safe! Avery's a moron! You probably eat men like him for breakfast!"

She stepped forward again and got up in his face. He could smell her breath. "Don't you wish I was eating you for breakfast, Longbottom?"

"Fuck, pay attention!" he snapped but then Hal's voice whispered in his ear. _That just means she likes ya._ "Only staff can enter or leave this room, it was my only option to get you away from Vistain."

"I want my lawyer, and I'm not saying another word until he gets here." she folded her arms across her chest and stuck her nose in the air. He groaned. Was there anything more frustrating than Pansy Parkinson?

"What is happening here?" he heard Bobbi ask, as she pushed her way through the remaining crowd. "Why is she not in a cell? What happened to my Patrol Officers? Potter! Longbottom!"

"Fucking. Hell." his teeth clench and he watched as she brought a bloody fist up and pounded it into her other hand, smirking at him the whole time.

oOo

"What part of 'be quiet and quick about it, don't draw attention from the Auror's, and don't get arrested' did you not understand?"

She shrugged at Draco and tried not to wince when her shoulder complained. "Technically I didn't get arrested."

He stared her down, his suit black on black, the buttons a shiny silver that brought out his eyes. But she knew he was just playing the part of 'Draco Malfoy, the Lawyer'. He was still 'Draco Malfoy, Widower and Self Pity-er'. "Did you finally take one too many hits to the head? Pans, you're in a holding cell."

She shrugged again. Ouch. Hurt. Shoulder. The Patrol she'd ended up hitting with his own belt had actually managed to almost take her down. But almost wasn't good enough when you're fighting to win. He nearly wrenched her shoulder out of it's socket though.

"Tell me if any of this sounds familiar. You assaulted four Aurors. You got caught stealing a rare and valuable plant from The Conservatory. You were spotted by no less than twenty witnesses destroying property at three different shops in Diagon Alley. You initiated a brawl in the training room at The Offices… Any of that ringing a bell?"

"Uhm…. no?" she hated the dark bags under his eyes. They were worse than last time. It was easier to pretend he was doing better when she wasn't in the same country as him. Easier to pretend Tory hadn't died and left them all floundering.

"Is there anything else you want to tell me before I attempt to get you out of this?" he asked with a pompous sort of tone she only heard him use on his real clients, it made her angry.

"I ran into Ellis Vistain."

"Bloody hell… Pansy. Did you just run around London announcing to the whole bloody country that you're back in town? How did you possibly run into Ellis Vistain?"

"Are we… alone?" she nodded to the two way mirror that decorated one wall. She didn't want anyone in this building even getting a whiff of information about her sister.

"Yes. I still have some pull here."

Sighing, she cracked her neck and tried to reign in her growing terror. "He was here. He said… he said he saw Posy last Moon."

"You know he was just trying to get a rise from you." which he did, but she wasn't going to tell Draco that. The Vistain brothers scared the hell out of her, and Ellis was considered the nice one.

"I don't know anything. Because I don't know what is happening with Posy anymore." she slapped the table between them.

Shaking his head quickly he said, "She's fine. I… I went to see her."

"Gah!" she pushed the table at him. "Mother always liked you more than me."

"Lucky she does, because I'm the only one she'll allow to see Posy beside herself." Draco snapped at her. He slammed her file down on the table. It was _large._ "I specifically told you not to get involved with this department. Longbottom has it out for you, and whatever happened at The Conservatory has Potter feeling much the same. They would have no problem watching you rot in Azkaban. Your only leverage here is your information on Longbottom's case. How do you know this... Sarah Whittler?"

She reached forward and snatched the pen from his hand. She began clicking it over and over again just to irritate him. _Click-click-click-click-click!_

"Pansy." he reached out and took the pen from her, stashing it in his jacket pocket.

She knew she was pushing his buttons, sure as she knew his suit was too big for him. Sure as she could smell the whiskey on his breath, the image of those half empty decanters in his office coming to mind. His pale hands cupped hers, only to stop her restless fingers from drumming against the table, and he forced a calming breath. "Posy is fine." he told her in a gentler voice. "Vistain is an asshole that you pissed off and he is just trying to make you suffer for it. Do you trust me?"

"You know I do."

"Then accept it, I saw Posy with my own two eyes and she is fine. Your mother keeps her… very comfortable. Now are you going to let me help you or should I go waste my time somewhere else?"

She groaned. "Sarah helped Posy a lot when she first turned." she leaned back and looked at the ceiling, picturing her baby sister as a tiny wolf. All black, with bright blue eyes, and tiny, sharp teeth.

"And you know who Whittler's mate is?"

"Yes. Her mate's name is David Rowe and he's my mother's supplier."

He blew out a breath. "I think I can arrange a deal, if you return The Fern -"

The Fern! She sat up and pushed her chair back, her brain screaming at her. "Drakey, do you know who Garrett Buchanan is?"

His eyes narrowed on her. "He's Daphne's personal assistant. Why?"

Her fists curled. That bitch. "She fucking set me up."

"Who... Daphne?"

"Yes. Garrett Buchanan is the one who tipped off Longbottom that I was back in town."

Draco sighed. "And then Longbottom saw you when you went to stake out the place. Why would she set you up?"

She waved her finger in the air, as if it helped her think. "Theo said she got a huge pay off from some unknown source."

"Damn you, Pansy. You saw Theo?" he stood up and started shoving her papers into his briefcase.

"Why not?" she couldn't resist the urge to stand with him. She finally felt like she was figuring this whole thing out, why was he mad?

He buckled his briefcase and pushed his chair in, marching to the door and opening it. "You're a low life fop who leads him on, then leaves him to suffer. Why can't you just leave him alone?! Stay there while I try to get you out of this mess you've made."

The door slammed shut, it took a lot to make Draco that mad. And she'd done it. "Damn it all!"

She felt completely out of control.

oOo

It was some time later when the door opened again, and Draco reentered with Longbottom. Neither of them looked happy.

"It's about time. It's been ages." she snapped, tilting her chair back as if she wasn't concerned at all.

"I-"

"Mr. Longbottom," Draco interrupted him before he could start yelling at her. She smirked at Longbottom and had the pleasure of watching his ears turn red. "Has agreed to the terms I've laid out."

"Great, so I'll be going now." she stood and made for the door, only to be stopped by Longbottom. His fingers wrapped around her arm tightly. She wondered about that. His extra strength should have made such an action hurt, shouldn't it? Maybe he was holding back.

"I don't think so."

She looked from him to her arm, then back up to his eyes. "I woke up like this… at The Conservatory. I think you liked having me close, Longbottom. That freak accident gives you the extra strength you need to hold me close at night, huh?"

"You're mental. Sit down." he pushed her into the chair and the force of it made the wood groan.

Draco took a seat and glared at them both, pulling out parchment and handing it to Longbottom first. "Ms. Parkinson will take Mr. Longbottom and retrieve the property she's been charged of stealing. Once the item is back to its original owner, she will then in good faith consult and lend her expertise and knowledge to Mr. Longbottom's current case. During the duration of this pseudo partnership, Ms. Parkinson agrees to commit no crimes or conduct any illegal activity. In return she will serve no jail time. If you're both agreeable, sign here… and there."

She watched Longbottom's strong fingers swiftly sign the parchment with Draco's fancy quill before he handed it to her tentatively. "This is the best you can do?" she asked Draco, still pissed and bitter about it all.

"Far better than you deserve." Longbottom spit out at her.

"Pansy, your extensive knowledge on the wolf families would be _invaluable_ to Mr. Longbottom's case." Draco pointedly looked at Longbottom. "Helping him with his case will not only keep you out of jail but keep you focused on the bigger _p_ icture."

She didn't miss the obvious emphasis on the 'P' sound. She couldn't save Posy if she landed herself in jail. She had to get a better grip on her emotions if she was going to do this…

She signed her name.

"When do we start?" she gave Longbottom the biggest, happiest smile she could conjure.

oOo

Piano filled his ears and he turned his earbuds up, until it was all he could hear, even over his own thoughts. Technology was still new to the magical community but even the older generation of witches and wizards were slowly making the change over. Thankfully, because that's how Theo made his living. Information was his goal, and he was good at finding it.

He hadn't been surprised when he learned Pansy had been spotted on the boat returning home, he had, after all, been keeping tabs on Pearl Parkinson for years.

Maybe he was paranoid. But she was the one that sent Jacques Moreau after Pansy when they had been in Spain. It had been a cold night when Theo figured out that little tidbit, but the weather hadn't stopped him from Apparating over to confront her. Pearl claimed she hadn't known he was a murdering rapist when she asked Jac to visit her own daughter, she'd just wanted to _scare_ Pansy a bit, make her run back home.

Fucking disgusting. And if Pansy ever found out what her mother did…

That very night Pearl demonstrated the very lengths she would go to destroy Pansy's life, the Glimmer had slid into his skin with a hot, swift burn that made him vomit over and over again. It had taken him nearly six years to kick the habit, and his health would never be the same again. Pearl had done that to him and Pansy never knew.

What happened in Spain led to their eventual breakup, after hours of fights and callousness towards each other first. He knew what he'd done to her, regret a bitter pill to swallow. He should have _been_ there for her, after everything that she went through. Instead he blamed her and took it out on her. He understood why she didn't love him like he loved her. He was a piece of shit.

To say he blamed Pearl Parkinson for all his problems was an understatement but he'd never be able to bring himself to tell Pansy the truth. He'd caused her so much pain, he could save her from this.

When he saw the work order go through back channels and he connected it to Pansy's mother, he realized at once what had been done. That she'd locked Posy up for being a wolf.

So no, it wasn't surprising when he saw Pansy had been spotted coming home. Posy was the only reason she'd step foot in this country. He wanted to help in whatever way possible, but now he feared he'd made a grave error sending Pansy to Daphne for that job.

He, illegally, printed out a copy of the tip off, and read the name over and over again. Garrett Buchanan… he could have sworn he knew the name from somewhere. A few more searches and awhile later he realized why. He was Daphne's personal assistant.

Daphne didn't hire smart people that could think for themselves. She hired brain-dead idiots that would do whatever she wanted. If this Buchanan guy tipped off the Auror's about Pansy… it was because Daphne told him to.

His eyes scanned over the payout. Someone paid Daphne to set up Pansy.

But who?

He ran his hands through his unwashed, greasy hair and kept searching.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Thanks again for the reviews! I love it! I hope you enjoy the next chapter.

* * *

Chapter Ten

(Where LB and Pan Pan agree to be _Cordial_ -Whatever that means...)

Lester Hastings kept a polite hand on her shoulder, guiding her through the maze that was the bottom floor of the offices and the entire time he chattered at about a hundred miles an hour. Pansy couldn't manage to stop staring at his abnormally flat face, which looked as if someone had taken a two by four and hit him in the head with it at some point. Except for his nose, which poked out at a steep angle.

It was easier to tune him out while staring at his face though, so that's what she did.

Until he started laughing. "-for real though, best fight I've seen in _awhile!_ Other than that fight you had with LB earlier! Now that was the best fight I've seen in awhile!"

"LB?"

"Neville _Long - Bottom_. LB. It's what his friends call him."

"Oh yeah? Well thanks Lester Hastings."

"You can call me Les!"

He opened the door for her and she immediately begun to like him. Maybe it was his adorable, if hyper, enthusiasm he had for every little thing. Maybe it was because he didn't treat her like a criminal. Maybe it was his kindness, because he gently led her down the hallway instead of dragging her around like Longbottom liked to do. Like he _tried_ to do before Draco brought up the fact that someone had to go and get that blasted plant from her house.

She certainly wasn't giving it to Daphne, so she had no problem giving it back to the Aurors. Her problem was they wouldn't let _her_ go get it. But it seemed Draco had just enough pull left in him to get Longbottom to agree to letting Draco go in her place. Which was just fine with her.

Because she sure as shit wasn't giving Neville Sticking Longbottom her address.

"You have to show me how to do that move you did. Poor Humphries. He's really a nice guy, but he barely passed the strength and physical testing. It's all new you see, the physical aspect of Auror Training... since magic is so unreliable. How on earth did you unbuckle his belt so fast? He was so surprised! Did you see his face?"

He sucked in a breath, his eyes winced as if he were reliving the moment. "That slap across the face with his belt had to sting. What's your weapon of choice? I myself prefer the wand of course, but you never know these days if you're even going to be able to use the thing! Ha ha ha!"

"Les. You are something else." she pulled her dagger out and held the hilt out for him.

"Wow!" he shouted with the joy of a child waking up on Christmas morning. "Would you spar with me?"

"Sure," she slapped his hand from below, sending her dagger into the air, which she swiped with her other hand. She spun around and jumped on his back, pressing her blade into his neck. "I _looove_ fighting." she said in his ear.

"Wow!" he said in that same over enthusiastic way, his grin infectious. Then he attempted to flip her over his shoulder, his grip much stronger than she thought it'd be. If she had been going for the kill, it would have been a terrible move, her dagger still pressed against his neck as it was. But they were sparring, so she relaxed into the movement and landed on her feet, dancing away from him with a laugh.

And right into the solid form of Neville Longbottom. His hand came up and gripped her arm roughly. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Behind him stood Draco, levitating The Fern. And behind him, stood about 20 other people all watching with rapt attention.

"You agreed to no fighting while you work this case." growled Longbottom.

"I agreed to no such thing. And that wasn't fighting." she winked at Les. "That was flirting."

Les laughed and the tension broke, just enough that she was able to brush off Longbottom's hand. She _hated_ being led around.

The blonde from earlier emerged from the group. She had a no nonsense expression on her face and her stance said she expected her word to be followed without argument. It couldn't be more obvious that this was the boss if she had a big name tag on her forehead claiming just that. "I want this plant safely escorted back to The Conservatory ASAP. All of you! Back to work! This Circus is _over_. Longbottom, you and your consultant will work on this case and then I want her _out of here._ Have I made myself clear? _Perkins,_ get back to work! You too, Humphries!"

She effectively shooed the crowd away and Pansy caught one last look at the overflowing leaves of The Fern before it was whisked away and out of sight. Draco brushed dirt from his suit and straightened his tie, though the latter move was likely just habit.

"I trust you won't be needing my services anytime soon?"

He didn't wait for an answer, instead turning and pulling Longbottom aside. They spoke briefly, and she couldn't make a word out because Les was chatting her ear up the entire time. Then Malfoy nodded with a huff, turned and headed for the elevator. Hermione Granger emerged from a side room, her belly poking out of an oversized silk shirt. "Malfoy! Wait up!"

"Not now Granger." he shouted.

Pansy felt her eyebrows raise and Draco entered the elevator saying, "I'm not coming back to work!"

He sounded like a fucking asshole but Granger followed earnestly. She felt inclined to be annoyed with him, but Pansy figured he managed to get her out of this mess she landed in. That had to count for something, so she would cut him some slack for being a grump. Still... if she were Granger she would knock Malfoy on his ass for the way he spoke.

The elevator doors shut with a chime and she shifted her focus to the two men standing near by.

Longbottom frowned as he looked down at her. "You did agree to no fighting."

"No, I agreed not to partake in any illegal activities while we're working together."

"Just fyi, holding a blade to someone's throat is _illegal._ "

She couldn't help it, it was too easy. She forced a pout. "Jealous, baby?" Les completely forgotten about.

She watched Longbottom step towards her, his face morphing into anger. He really did hate it when she flirted with him. He didn't stop walking and he wrapped his fingers around her upper arm, dragging her along. Again.

Out of the frying pan, into the fire. "Do you mind not manhandling me?" she snapped. Bastard.

"No, I don't mind at all." Maybe if his angry tone wasn't so damn cute, she'd stop pushing his buttons. Maybe.

"Do you mind not being so ugly? You're hurting my eyes."

His grip tightened. "Insult me all you want, Parkinson." he shoved her into his office. "Time to earn your keep."

Years of training kept her from tripping over the office chair. She instead braced against the desk and turned, crossing her ankles. She watched him through her eyelashes.

"How do you earn your keep around here? I'm under the impression nothing is getting done. Tsk. Tsk. Tsk."

"Keep pushing, Parkinson."

"Never figured you for the type that liked pushing women around, Longbottom."

"I don't. You're not a woman."

"Uhm…" she ran her fingers across the tops of her breasts, pushing the strings there down further. "I beg to differ."

"You're a devil. Sent straight from hell just to torture us."

"I didn't realize you thought so _highly_ of me, LB."

She watched his fists clench, his jaw tense. It was just _so much fun_ making him angry! She felt giddy all over again. "We going to do this the easy way?"

"I much, _much prefer_ the hard way." she smirked, her meaning crystal clear.

He took two giant steps and leaned in, doing his best to intimidate her. He braced his hands against the desk on either side of her. "You are legally obligated to help me with this case. If you can't, then I get the immense pleasure of locking you up in a cell and watching you rot for at least a decade."

"You need to work on your dirty talk, Longbottom."

"Cooperate! Or else."

She leaned up, their faces centimeters apart. "Wanna know something about me? I don't like being told what to do."

"I'm not afraid of you." he said through his teeth.

She let out a breath. _Now_ that was sexy. She could list the men she knew that weren't scared of her on one hand. Most of them were big bad wolves like Vistain and they weren't afraid of much at all. The other was Tony, her trainer. And now...

Neville Sticking Longbottom.

"Good." she nodded and felt much more agreeable. "I'll answer your questions."

"Tell me everything you know about Sarah Whittler." he backed up, a bit surprised, and crossed his arms and she realized something had changed in him. His shoulders weren't as stiff, his dark eyes weren't so intense, his jaw relaxed. She didn't make the mistake of thinking he was at ease, because his stance was classic defensive. But something had changed… whatever it was Draco said?

She blinked and slowly, so slowly, she smiled at him. She'd been staring at him for awhile without saying a thing. Let him think whatever he wanted to think, he needed her. And more, she would be satisfied helping with this case.

"Parkinson."

"Longbottom?"

He sucked in a harsh breath. Maybe he wasn't as relaxed as he seemed. "Sarah. Whittler."

Ah yes… Sarah Whittler. Sweet, cuddly, but stubborn and she'd known exactly how to handle a little girl just turned wolf. Sarah had spent the first few weeks helping Posy through her transformation, and Pansy had gotten to know the girl well during that time. But like usual, eventually she left, thinking Posy was safe.

"I think your main focus should be on her mate. David-"

"Rowe. Yeah, I got his name from your _friend."_

Maybe he could push her buttons too. " _Rowe_ moves Glim for the brother's Vistain." Ellis was a menace... but Felix was worse. Far, far worse.

"Sounds like an important job. Why would he be missing then?"

Rowe was missing? Maybe that's why Sarah had been targeted. Pansy walked around the desk and looked at Longbottom's board, mostly to get familiar with his case, but also to break eye contact with him. "I haven't been in town long enough to catch up on the newest gossip. But last time I was here-"

"Which was when exactly?"

"Oh you know, sweetie pie." she looked over her shoulder at him and winked. He had been there, chasing her across Diagon Alley, into Muggle London, to the river. Right into Harry Potter's unwelcoming arms.

"Just answer the question."

"Three years ago, sugarplum. And even then there was a bit of tension between the families." she pointed to Fawley. "Never understood how someone so smart could raise a bunch of idiots, but then again, Matthias did decide to turn his kids just to consolidate more power soooo… By the way, your family tree for the Fawley's is missing a lot."

"And how do you know the families so well? Is your mother a werewolf?"

"Psh. No. Is yours?"

"My mother's dead." he snapped, and the words carried a heavy weight. She'd struck a nerve for sure. Did he blame himself? Was it a wolf?

"Wish mine was." she shrugged, hoping the words would distract him. It did.

"Don't say that."

"I wish she were dead." she looked him in the eye, so he'd know she was telling the truth.

"No one is better off without their parents." He walked around to his side of the desk, leaning against the ledge as he looked to the board. His finger brushed over the picture of Edina Nelson.

"You're wrong. Some women aren't meant to be mothers." she paused, realizing she'd been telling the truth for awhile. Strange. "Do you remember her?"

Surprised, he looked from her to Edina's photo. "What? No."

"She was a second year when we were seventh years."

"Damn. I don't remember her." he seemed genuinely upset about that too.

"Of course not. She was in my house."

"You know three of the victims."

"Yes… maybe I'm the killer."

"You're not a killer though."

She felt her eyebrows rise. She'd assumed Neville Longbottom knew everything about her… but she'd have to think on that more later. She tapped Edina's picture. "Sarah and Kath I know from years ago. Edina was in my house at school. I don't recognize any of the other girls though."

His hand rubbed up against his chin, his eyes looking down at her. "School… It seems like a lifetime ago, us running around Hogwart's…"

"Speak for yourself." Fear wasn't so forgettable. Trust the idiot Gryffindor not to understand that though.

He sighed. "Do you have to be so aggravating all the time?"

"Absolutely. Wouldn't want you to start getting all chummy with me."

"For fuck's sake…" he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Like it or not we're on this case together now. Can we at the very least agree to be cordial until this thing is solved?"

She looked him up and down. "You and me? Cordial?" she kind of hoped they'd be more than that.

"Then we can go back to hating each other properly."

She held out her hand. "You have a deal."

Because she had no other choice… Posy needed help and Pansy had no idea how to get to her.

oOo

Cordial his pasty white ass. Parkinson had two settings apparently: violent and flirty. They blended together seamlessly much to Neville's frustration. Cordial to her meant extra flirty and he sort of wished she would just stick her dagger right in his heart and be done with it. Better dead than dealing with this cute, teasing version of his least favorite person. It bothered him how often she resorted to violence, only to turn around and call him _sugarplum_ or _sweetie pie_. He didn't much like Les so far, but when Parkinson got her blade against his neck while _laughing_ … he saw red. She fought with grace, sure. There was a lot of skill there... he'd known that all along. He'd experienced it first hand. But why? Did it give her some kind of sick control?

Then Malfoy had the audacity to pull him aside and warn him off Parkinson, even though the lawyer was obviously pissed off at his client. ' _Whatever is going on between you two? Just end it now. You don't want any part of this.'_

Except the man just brokered a deal that had him working with Parkinson in one of the biggest cases of his career. They were already involved. But it sure as fuck wasn't in the way Malfoy thought they were. The very idea of it… he resisted the urge to throw up. Like he would ever… he would _never_...

You don't stick your dick in crazy.

And she was just making things worse. _Sugarplum..._

"Here." he directed her to the back alley where all the victims had been dumped. They'd walked there from the offices, while she filled in the missing information he had on the wolves. It looked even worse in the daylight. Trash littered the ground, overflowing dumpsters lined the graffiti covered walls along both brick walls that dead ended into a dirty stone building wall. "Down there."

Parkinson said nothing, thankfully because he was getting sick of her voice already, and walked slowly down the way, taking everything in.

Malfoy had said, ' _She'll never be satisfied. Take my advice, wrap up your case, and forget about her.'_ in such a way that made it clear he would be making sure Parkinson wasn't hurt. And Neville didn't take threats lightly. And what the hell did that even mean? She'll never be satisfied?

And worse, there was _another_ person looking out for Parkinson. Neville just didn't get it. Even Les seemed to be falling for her and the witch had held a blade to his throat! The sneaky witch managed to command loyalty effortlessly. Even Ron seemed to admire her after the fight in the training room.

It helped however, when Neville suggested Les look into Parkinson, specifically what happened after her last year at Hogwart's. He already knew most of her past, but what he didn't know was what made Hal say 'She's been through hell'. It might help him understand her better and Les wasn't opposed to a little research. It would help him transition into his new role as Auror.

Bobbi had asked him to also figure out why Parkinson decided to lift The Fern, just in case it was still being targeted. Because she didn't steal for shits and giggles, she'd been hired. He'd known what the plant could do, Susan had told him. But they still hadn't figured out how to unlock it… until Parkinson…

What a strange turn of events.

He watched her take everything in, silently moving through the cluttered street with measured steps. She'd pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail and he caught a glimpse of a long, sharp pick hidden in her hair. Even in her street clothes, she was prepared to fight. Whatever kind of hell she went through, Neville didn't believe violence was the answer. Not to everything.

"We've had Pats comb through everything here."

"The Patrol that touched my ass… what's his name?" she asked without looking at him.

"Why do you want know? So you can make his life a living hell too?"

She shot him a flirty grin. "You don't have to tell me, I'll figure it out all on my own honey bunny. I heard a rumor that magic doesn't work on this side of the city."

He ignored that 'honey bunny' and focused on her question. "It doesn't. Two blocks over, that's the line. You follow it north to south and you get a pretty even divide. Magic works to the west, doesn't to the east."

"What happens when you leave the city limit?"

"It starts working again, if it wants too…"

She stepped over a ripped up garbage bag and paused. "Right here is where the bodies are found?"

"Yes. They always just appear." he crossed his arms and tried not to be angry at his situation. He was torn between wanting to be anywhere else away from Parkinson and wanting any help he could get for this case. She stepped back over the same bag and looked at the wall directly in front of her, hopping back and forth on her feet.

She knelt down and started pulling piles of trash bags away from the spot.

"What did you find?" he asked, and walked over when she didn't answer. Reluctantly he began to help clear the area, hoping she wasn't fucking with him.

"Do you feel it?"

No, he felt rain in the air and annoyance with her. He went to say as much when she shot him another smirk. "Cordial remember?" she said in a sing song voice. She moved her hand back and forth in front of the brick. Then stood and stepped _into_ the brick wall, disappearing from sight.

He startled. _No fucking way…_

Her head poked out of the brick and she grinned at him, her eyes mischievous. "C'mon LB." and she grabbed him by the jacket, tugging him through the brick wall. It felt just like going through the King's Cross platform 9 ¾ and he came through on the other side, the room dark and dirty and grey.

"Follow my lead." he told her, getting out his hand held flashlight. It lit up the room in a blue white glow and they saw furniture covered in dusty sheets, boarded up windows covered with black tape, broken benches along one wall. The wallpaper classic 70s flower pattern repeating in vertical rows peeled from the corners.

He expected her to argue but she fell in line just behind him, her dagger glinting in the light as it fell into her hand. "Do you feel it now?" she asked in a hushed voice.

He took a deep breath. "Yeah. There's airflow coming through here." Because as dusty as the room was, the air felt fresh.

They walked out and into a narrow hallway. One way was completely boarded off with bloodied planks of wood. "That is not a good sign…" and he had to agree with her. This place, magically concealed, right next to their dump site? No, it wasn't going to be good.

They followed the slight breeze the other way, his light reflecting off the mirrors hanging along both walls leading down the hallway. They covered nearly every inch, floor to ceiling, of the walls, some of them overlapping. "That's not creepy at all…"

"About to get creepier…" he focused his torch on a long, slender mirror. Dried blood crusted down the side.

"What kind of murdery fun house did you bring me to, LB? First dates should be movies or dinner or star gazing…"

"What girl wouldn't like macabre ancient runes written in blood?" he lifted the mirror from the wall, revealing deep gouges made in the dirty, peeling 70s wallpaper… covered over with dried blood.

"I don't know which is more horrifying, that or your attempt at humor."

He set the mirror on the ground and took out his phone. "Hold the light for me, let me get a few pictures."

She took the phone instead and began snapping pictures.

"Hey-"

"Cooooordial." she sung to him, snapping pictures. He resisted the urge to slap his cuffs on her wrists and instead started exploring, removing more and more mirrors and revealing more and more runes.

Then she turned the phone towards him and snapped another picture. "Oh so dower. You know I'm not really up to date on my ancient runes but uh… doesn't that one mean nullify?"

"I'll leave that up to Hermione to figure out."

He took the phone away and continued down the hallway. There was only one door, flanked by chipped and dirty mirrors. They stood in front of it, listening intently. "Did you hear that?" he said, turning the knob. It stuck. "Damn it's locked."

He brought out his wand and silently attempted to unlock the door. But as suspected his magic made a pathetic _frrttzzz_ sound and white sparks briefly lit up against the knob before it died completely. "C'mon! _Alohomora!"_

"Ahem."

Parkinson slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out her picks. "LB, you're behind the times. Magic is so out."

He couldn't resist the smirk as he gripped the knob and pulled it from the door, the mechanism falling apart under his crushing strength.

"Well you could have done that in the first place." she said, putting away her picks.

The old wood creaked as the door swung open and he shone his light into the room.

It was a torture room. Small, maybe five by five and just as dark and dirty as the rest of the place had been.

And it was occupied.

They moved at the same time, both of them stepping out and clearing the room before coming to the girl strung up in thick manacles, chained to the opposite wall. Eye bolts held the chains to the wall. Inescapable without a key. Or Magic. There was no other source of light but the ceiling had a built in attic fan, sucking air up and creating the slight breeze. He went to his knees and checked for the girl's pulse, moving her dirty, matted hair from her face and neck.

Her eyes blinked open, dull even in the dim light.

She screamed.

oOo

"Get the hell away from her, Longbottom." she pushed him away, her mind screaming at her. "Go watch the door."

Is this what she looked like when she finally got away from Jac? Dirty and broken? Pansy went down on her haunches in front of the whimpering girl, cuts and bruises covering her body, a dirty and torn slip the only thing she wore. Blood caked her thighs and arms, little burn holes along her veins.

Yes, she realized. Yes, this is exactly how _she_ looked all those years ago. But Jac was _dead._ Pansy had _killed him_. She had plunged her dagger right in his heart and her dagger stayed there for hours while his body began to rot.

Dead. Jac was dead.

Shaken, she wanted to curl up and hide away, wanted to tremble and cry. But she made herself focus. Light skinned and dark headed, the girl looked absolutely terrified and the last thing she needed was for some stranger to start crying over her. Pansy didn't dare touch her.

Her voice, when she spoke, was steady and slow. "Look at me love, come on now. I am not going to hurt you."

The screaming quieted, followed by giant, crushing sobs. "I'll stop anyone who tries. Do you believe me?"

A pause, followed by a jerky nod and more sobs.

"Good. I just have a few questions okay? How many of them are there?"

"T-t-two… men…. Two men."

"Tell me your name, love. I'm Pansy. Pansy Parkinson."

"I'm Annie Stokes." she gulped, lip trembling.

Pansy held her hands up and slowly put them on the manacles keeping the girl trapped. "See my friend back there? He's an Auror. He works with _Harry Potter._ So he isn't going to hurt you. We're both here to help."

She took her picks out, belatedly realizing Neville was speaking into his walkie. Good. Better for him to stay out of the way, because this poor girl had clearly been traumatized by her male captives. She began working the first cuff, both pissed and happy to find it was a single lock. That meant it's easier to unlock, but it also meant they continuously tightened on the Annie Stokes' wrists. But Pansy had done this enough times she could do it in her sleep. It snapped open and the girl fell to the side, her arm flopping down.

Likely numb from her circulation being cut off. Pansy quickly went to the other cuff, repeating the process and wrapping her arm around Annie's waist before releasing the cuff. She fell into her with a sigh of relief, as if she finally believed they were there to help.

"Can you walk?" she stuffed the picks in her pocket and wrapped both arms Annie's frozen form, the girl's bones shaking.

"I don't think so."

"This is Neville. Neville Longbottom."

Recognition flickered across Annie's face, and Neville took a step forward. His voice was so gentle Pansy didn't recognize it. "Annie Stokes, I'm going to get you out of here and to some place safe."

No one in the world could argue against that, and Annie fell into Neville's open arms, strong arms that lifted her up and carried her easily. She immediately fell into continuous sobs.

Pansy didn't hesitate, she held her dagger ready and led the way out down the creepy, mirror and rune filled hallway, through the first room, and through the magical doorway into the alley. Misty raindrops filled the air when she emerged.

But she had no problem recognizing Marcus Barton standing at the end of the alley way.

"Marcus!" she shouted, feeling instant betrayal. She _knew_ Marcus, idiot yes… but murdering rapist? It couldn't be. Not possible...

"Pan Pan? Oh shit..." he took off right when Neville emerged with Annie, Marcus's eyes seeing the Auror Badge pinned to Neville's hip.

"You bastard!" Pansy shouted, her vision going hazy with red. She would have _never_ guessed that Marcus had anything to do with these murders. She reached into her boot and withdrew a smaller dagger and took off at a run. Misty cold air filled her lungs and she suddenly understood exactly why Neville Longbottom had gotten so attached to this case. In another universe, some other reality, she could have been one of these girls. Jac had every intention of killing her off as soon as he grew bored of her. She would have been just another victim.

"Who was that?" Neville shouted after her.

"Marcus Fucking Barton!"

She reached the end of the alley in no time and her feet were moving before she even spotted Marcus's head of dark hair bobbing through a crowd of pedestrians, heading east. People moved quickly out of her way when they spotted her dagger, her quick feet closing the gap between them fast. "Marcus!"

He turned to look at her as he ran and looked panicked, his pace picked up and he jumped over a tall fence between two buildings at the next block over. Damnit. She pushed a jogger over in her haste to climb after him, wishing she'd worn her gloves. Or that she too was a wolf that could jump over ten foot tall fences. Maybe she should start always wearing her leather jumpsuit and gear. Then she wouldn't have to worry chasing Marcus while wearing street clothes. Her jeans ripped at the knees when she landed.

She darted around the corner and spotted him just as he rushed away, but she had a clear shot. She took her small dagger, aimed, and threw it with deadly precision. It hit him in the back just before he would have gone over another fence.

"Ahh fuck!" he screamed, falling face first into the fence. He rolled up onto his feet as she ran to him, flailing his arms behind him trying to get the dagger. "Pan-Pan! It wasn't me!" he shouted, realized how close she was, and took out his wand.

He Apparated on the spot and the last thing she saw was his confused face.

"Damnit!"

oOo

"Just give her a few days." Susan insisted, pushing him out of the dimly lit hospital room. He'd taken Annie Stokes to St. Mungo's instead of chasing after Barton like he wanted. Oh how he wanted to give chase. The first big break in his case and he had a name now. Marcus Barton. Wolf. Youngest of the head of the Barton Wolf Family. It didn't even bother him that Pansy Parkinson was the one to get him to that name. He could kiss the witch for it actually! Because not only did he have a name, but they likely saved the next intended victim.

It hadn't been hard for him to take Annie to the hospital instead of rushing after Barton, because underneath it all, he'd signed on to be an Auror to help people. To stop the bad guys.

To be a good guy.

"Okay Susie." he smiled.

"You did good, Nev." she patted his shoulder and steered him towards the exit. "She'll live, and that's because of you."

He smiled again. Because of Parkinson.

"I'm not leaving until a few Pats get here. I'm putting a Guard on her until she leaves. We still haven't caught the ones doing this."

"That's fine but they better stay out of the way."

"You're the boss."

"Damn straight I am." Susie said, walking away.

Sometimes he wondered why he hadn't just married Susan Bones and been happy with her. He waited patiently, alert and focused, until the protective guard he'd ordered came up the stairwell and he briefed them on their job while they watched Annie. Absolutely no visitors. No exceptions other than himself or Harry. Then he amended that to include Parkinson, after remembering the soothing tone she'd used on the girl.

Who'd have thunk it?

Parkinson being gentle, what a thought. The way she spoke to girl, knowing exactly what to say to calm her down and get her to cooperate, to understand she was safe. He realized Annie would be fine around the spellthief, and that was a startling thought to have about Pansy Parkinson.

Neville made his way back to the offices when he was sure Annie Stokes was safe. The sun set during his walk, until night had completely fallen by the time he reached the front door of the offices. A few Pats made their way to the Corner, the closest bar most of them frequented after their shift ended. He waved at them and made his way down stairs, taking the steps two at a time. He wanted to know what happened with Parkinson. Did she catch Barton? Did she bring him in or something else? Something more sinister? She wasn't a trained Auror, she wouldn't know the correct procedure to follow.

Earlier, he told her she wasn't a killer… and she'd looked at him like he didn't know better. All his years as an Auror, defined by chasing Pansy Parkinson… her infamous robberies, the Star Crystal Ball, enchanted jewelry, scrolls and tomes, magical textbooks, cursed trinkets and charmed baubles, magical plants… the biggest, most magical diamond in the world... he thought he knew her. But the last few days had proved he didn't. Not at all.

Something had happened to her… something that changed her from some wimpy, bully of a schoolgirl into a confident, in control witch who could handle herself and those around her.

He opened his office door and found her spinning around in his chair, his dart between her fingers.

"Pan Pan."

"LB."

The dart flew through the air and landed in picture next to the door. He raised an eyebrow and looked.

She'd replaced the picture of herself with a picture of Marcus Barton, a big red X through his face. "You didn't catch him?"

Her face turned determined, her beautiful, unique eyes narrowing… but not at him. He wasn't her prey anymore.

"Not yet."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** *whistling innocently* (btw thanks to everyone who continues to read and review my fic! Really hope you're still enjoying it. I don't see an end anytime soon. I have far too many ideas for this story)

* * *

Chapter Eleven

(When Neville can't sleep because of _verrrry_ naughty pictures)

Pearl Parkinson wondered if her daughter knew how much they were alike. She wouldn't be surprised to hear Pansy maintained she was a daddy's girl and no more. But even the hardened Pearl could admit her daughter had a certain grace, a slyness that Pearl often saw in herself. Lord knew it wasn't passed down from her father, Tarrant had two left feet and danced like an elephant running from a mouse in the mud. Like herself, Pansy enjoyed being the center of attention, but she also knew how to hide in the shadows. How to be a ghost. An ability she didn't realize came by naturally.

Pearl stood in the corner of a dark bar, trying not to get any undesirable filth on her cloak as she spied her first born meeting with her little friend. She watched the once lovers from beneath her hood, listening to their conversation, waiting to make her next move. It had taken some consideration before she came to this conclusion, but, in the end, it was for the best.

Pansy thought the young Theodore safe from Pearl's attentions, all that ranting and raving about having no friends certainly had an affect. Sure. But Pearl never lost sight of Theodore, because he made it his business to know things. And Pearl couldn't have that. He knew too much already.

She listened to them speak in a hushed voices, the young man's heart in his voice. Pansy's biting reply caused Theodore to turn and hide his face, turn back and return the harsh words. Her daughter's nasty habit of treating those she loved like dirt always infuriated Pearl. Not because of the poor manners, no. Because that wasn't the proper way to manipulate people, which Pansy seemed an expert at. When she wanted to.

Somewhere along the way, her daughter decided it wasn't okay to manipulate those she loved, unless it was for their own good. What a waste of talent. But Pearl had given up on her first born a long time ago. Pansy was unlikely to find a proper husband or a land a decent job at this point, crass and violent as she'd become. She would just have to settle for whatever she found now, because of the disaster of a life she'd created for herself wasn't doing her any favors.

And now she found herself in the middle of Pearl's deal with the young Ms. Greengrass. That wouldn't do. Not at all. Pearl would have to take care of it personally, before Pansy found out too much. Before Theodore revealed too much.

Her daughter stood. "Theo, we can't meet out in public like this again." Though more than two decades separated her daughters, they both possessed such a tender, delicate heart.

"This was in the evening Prophet." he held up the paper, the front page a still picture. Her daughter with a beater's bat, head thrown back as she laughed. She supposed some might find her attractive, but Pearl didn't think so. It was a shame her first born had taken after Tarrant's side of the family. " _People_ ," he emphasized. "Are going to know that you are back now. You need to be careful. The Italians-"

"That's not why you came. And you can leave the Italians to me. I know how to handle them."

A dramatic sigh. "Stop being such a stubborn _bitch._ You know why I came here. I still love you, no matter what you've-"

"We've had this fight a million times. You miss the old me. I'm not that same girl anymore, Theo."

"I love the old you. I also love the woman you are now if you'd ever stop a moment and listen-"

"Bull shit-"

"I'm clean now-"

"Great, fucking finally. You're only about 10 years too late." Pansy snapped. "Don't act like your drug problem was the reason we broke up finally. You and I both know the bottom line. And it's that you don't love me as I am now, you love the idea of how I used to be."

"That's not true." he grabbed her hand. "You became the kind of woman no man could ever hurt. I admire that. I'm proud of that."

It wasn't what Pansy wanted to hear though, and Pearl watched her daughter leave the man alone at the bar with his seltzer. A shame. Pearl's hand tightened around the small knife hidden beneath her winter cloak. Such a shame that this would be the last time her daughter would see her friend.

oOo

In another life, Neville might have ended up as a herbalist, or herbology professor, or doing the kind of research these herbologists were doing on The Fern. Their lab coats were green with a stitched in leaf over their heart. He could definitely see himself in this office, covered in plants magical and not, experimenting and researching on various herbs and potion ingredients. Living a completely different version of his life.

He almost envied them. Almost.

They bustled around the room with purpose and Neville stood at the door, watching inside and knowing he was seeing history. They kept sprouting phrases he wasn't familiar with, 'Look at the genome sequences!' or 'The genetic mapping isn't complete yet!'. Their excitement should have made an impact on him, should have been infectious.

But in the center of the room, The Fern sat in a wide basin of clear, clear blue water and it somehow doubled in size since the last time he saw it. The bottom leaves curled and bounced in the water, and reminded Neville most of an African Water Fern, the jewel green leaves spreading out in lush green waves. As the plant grew taller, it morphed into something that looked like water moss, big flat leaves that seemed to float in the air. Between the sprigs of leaves, white blossoms bloomed bright and fragrant.

He faintly recalled the plant having a soft floral scent, but his memory might be bugged. He had barely a minute to look at The Fern before he and Parkinson fought for it, drawing blood and beating the absolute shit out of each other. But the harder he thought about it, the more sure he felt. It had reminded him of delicate jasmine or lavender. The softest hint of sweetness.

But now The Fern filled his nose with the smell of his favorite plant. Birch Sap Tree, a magical tree that usually grew at most to be a foot tall. Short and stubby, the white bark usually gnarled and deformed as it spread out. But the blue-grey leaves were stunning when it bloomed during the summer and early fall. But it always smelled of birch water to him. He had one next to his bed at home.

The Fern bounced in its basin, and the scent increased tenfold. God, he loved that smell. The longer he watched the petals float on the water, the less stressed he felt. His case, Parkinson, Katherine Whittler… it all faded to the background, a problem for tomorrow. His muscles relaxed, his breathing grew longer, his eyes grew heavy. He thought longingly of warm summer nights, good music playing, a cold drink in his hand, sitting in a garden somewhere…

Susie's voice filled his mind from that night he went to see her. ' _It's showing similar properties of witch hazel, only times about million. We're thinking, if we can adapt it to wolfsbane potion, we might be able to completely halt the transformation on the Full moon.'_

Could it be? This magical plant the answer to the wolf epidemic? A potion to stop the transformation would give people the control they needed during the Full Moon, to remain human. No more revels, no more wolf families…

He sighed, his head drowsy, and decided to remain wary until they knew more information. If anything came from this plant, it would be a sleeping draught to end all sleeping draughts. It made him want to curl up, wrap his arms around a woman, bury his face in her neck, and sleep for a week. He imagined her leg hooking over his thigh, his hand resting on her ass. Maybe she'd have dark hair, all tumbled and messy…

"What the hell is this, LB?"

Startled out of his stupor, he turned to see Bobbi purposefully walking towards him. "Bobs, Parkinson wrote down some ideas for you. To better protect The Fern. Basically a run down of how _she_ got it. She was strangely cooperative when she gave it to me."

"Oh you don't say? Did you... read it before you handed it over?"

He eyes narrowed. "I didn't. What does it say?"

She put the folded piece of paper in his hand. "I put a star by my favorite part. It is… exceptionally lewd. Where is Ms. Parkinson now? Why aren't you with her?"

"I let her leave after she gave this to me." he said, unfolding the paper. Parkinson had also, not so kindly, returned his cell phone and notepad after that. She had shoved both into his jacket pocket, her fingers deftly searching his other pockets as if he couldn't see her doing just that. Did she get off on that shit?

He really wanted to know what the hell was wrong with her.

"Did you find out who hired her on The Fern job yet?"

Actually he hadn't even asked… "No." he paused. "Not yet."

"What if she bails out and you never see her again?"

He wished. To never have to deal with Pansy Parkinson's antics ever again would be a dream come true… except… she found the hidden room and solved why the victims of his case randomly appeared in that alley. He grudgingly admitted to himself that maybe, just maybe he was the tiniest bit happy she decided to come back to town and annoy him.

Just a tiny bit.

"I don't think she'll leave… I believe she took what happened to Ms. Stokes personally. She'll stick around to help."

"The only reason I allowed that deal to go through was to get The Fern back. If she does anything even remotely out of line, I want her locked up immediately. If she bails on your case, no second chances. Understood?"

"Yes, boss."

"Good." her boss tone changed in an instant. "Dinner Sunday? Connor's cooking."

"You're not cooking at all?"

"Nope."

"You sure? Not dessert or anything?"

"No…?"

"Okay I'll come." he grinned.

"Jerk. I can cook some things!" she walked away and entered the office then, her mere presence making the Herbologists move even faster. "You'd be so lucky." she told him as she walked by and it stung.

He _knew_ Bobbi hadn't meant to hurt him, because as much as a hardass as she could be she really was a huge sweetheart... but her comment hurt. Because he _would_ be so lucky. It wasn't the first time he felt jealous of Connor, or any of his friends for that matter. The world around them seemed to be falling apart but they had all found someone to weather the storm with. Ever since the accident with the strength potion, his body changed he feared permanently, he had problems being intimate with a woman. It had taken him weeks just to figure out how to hold most things without breaking them.

Eggs still gave him problems.

Humans, he figured out quickly, bruised easily if he didn't pay attention to his movements. He pushed a door open into Hermione once and she had a black eye for a week after that. Another time he caught the weekend receptionist before she tripped over the front steps and she had a bruise in the shape of his fingers around her arm that probably hurt more than if he had just let her fall in the first place. What woman wanted to be with some brute prone to bruising them with a mere touch? Accident or not… it felt a wretched punch to the gut. Neville constantly felt as if he were looking down a long road, knowing he would be walking it alone.

He shook his head and looked in at The Fern again, the scent of birch water filled his nose. Instantly he knew the plant's magical aura was affecting him. He had to get out of there. It was time for him to go anyways. His being at The Conservatory never ended well, and he'd done his job for now. The Fern was safe and now that Parkinson had accidentally unlocked the secret to it, they could begin testing it with the Wolfsbane potion. They could only hope it would prove worthwhile.

He turned his thoughts to the case. Bobbi might think Parkinson would bail when she had the chance, but Neville had seen the look in her eyes after she lost Barton. He'd rather eat dirt than _ever_ give her a compliment… but the woman was relentless, and he knew she wouldn't rest easy until she'd seen this case through. The picture of Barton on his dart board was proof enough. Begrudgingly, he allowed himself the tiniest amount of admiration for Parkinson.

He took the Floo home and realized the paper was still clutched his hands.

' _12 Steps to Making Sure Pesky Rogues Can't Steal Your Precious Plants and How to Get into Neville Longbottom's Pants at the Same Time' A Guide By Pansy Parkinson. Step One: Don't put the plant on a pedestal in the middle of the room where anyone can walk in and immediately spot it. Try hiding it. I'm positive this was Longbottom's idea, because he's an idiot. Like the rest of the male population, he probably thinks with this laughably tiny cock instead of his head._

"Oh for Fuck's Sake…." he skimmed down to the step with a big star by it.

 _Step Six: By this point, Longbottom will be absolutely furious with you, but this is a good thing! It means we are only one step away from ferocious angry hate sex. Go into vivid detail about exactly how hard you want him to pin you against a wall and fuck your brains out! All night! Sweaty, nasty, regret it in the morning sex (Personally, my favorite thing like_ ever). _Leave naughty pictures on his phone, wear ridiculously low cut shirts around him, and at every opportunity, remind him of exactly how much he wants to put you in handcuffs._

And just like that, that small bit of admiration flew out the window.

oOo

He threw his phone into the trash and spent the night tossing and turning before giving up and heading to St. Mungo's to visit Annie Stokes, the sun just turning the sky a dull morning grey as he arrived. Susie stopped him in the hallway outside her office, the bags under her eyes telling him she hadn't slept a wink.

"I need your help." she told him. "Can you find a patient of mine?"

She handed him a photograph of a witch wearing a Hogwart's school uniform playing with her Ravenclaw blue tie. "Old photo." he commented, watching the girl's pale fingers twirl the end of her tie. Photographs didn't move anymore.

"Sorry it's the only one I have." she paused to look at her phone. "Cheese and crackers! I don't have time for this today."

"Busy?"

"Busy? Trying to get the wounded wizarding community to trust St. Mungo's again? I have three patients here and it's stretching my budget dangerously. Prophet is on my ass constantly and I barely have any time to find more contributors but if I don't then I'm shut down for good! Why yes, yes I am busy."

He held his hands up in surrender. "Sorry I asked."

She sighed and pointed to the picture. "Her name is Bre and she's missing. I've been calling you all night. What happened to your phone?"

"It was… compromised... I'll get a new one today." he tucked the photo into his jacket pocket. "What's the story?"

"Bre has been coming to see me for some counseling," Susie handed him a file. "Legally, I am not allowed to discuss my patients without their expressed permission. I can however tell what I know about the douchebag boyfriend who has been beating her up a bit. All I know is she broke it off with him a few days ago and she didn't show up for her session yesterday."

He took the file which was actually just a name and description of Bre's on and off again boyfriend.

"I realize maybe her cell phone has also been 'compromised', but can you maybe do your thing and check up on her?"

"Yes Susie. I'll look into it. Lemme talk to Ms. Stokes first."

"Fine, your girlfriend is there now."

"No. No. Noo. She's not. She _isn't_ my girlfriend!"

"Aww Neville. You're so smitten."

Last night it really hit home that he was working _with_ Parkinson. They'd be spending a lot more time together than ever before and the thought filled him with dread. Especially if she kept going around telling people they were dating. Ugh! He _absolutely_ did not want to have sex with Pansy Parkinson. If he had to choose between saving the world and having sex with Pansy Parkinson, the world was done for. That 'Guide' she wrote was without a doubt the most ridiculous thing he'd ever read before. At first, he'd just assumed she wrote it to annoy him. Because that's what she did, she lived to annoy him. But by the third read through… he realized he was reading too much into it. Did she really want him to put the cuffs on her? Did she really think he had a 'laughably tiny cock'? It just wasn't okay for someone to think that about a man's love muscle even if said muscle actually was laughably tiny. Not okay.

For some reason, he decided to check his phone and see if Parkinson had actually taken any 'naughty' pictures.

She had.

Naughty, dirty, _bad_ pictures. He had gotten so wound up last night, it had taken him hours to calm down enough to attempt sleep even after tossing the damn thing in the trash. He'd been just drifting off when he first thought it. _Did this mean that she_ actually _wanted to have sex with him?_ For real?

That bone chilling thought kept him up all night.

"Neville," Susie snapped her fingers in his face. "Are you ill?"

"I'm fine!"

"You've been acting strange lately."

"I'm fine!" he snapped loudly. "I'll look into your patient."

"Why are you angry again? Why are you always so angry lately?" Susie snapped at him in return. "I'm so sick of dealing with your emotional issues, LB!"

He hated the knowing look she gave him as she walked away. Seething, he stomped down the hallway to the guarded room at the end and paused when he heard a soft voice coming from inside. Parkinson's voice, like he had never heard it before. Gentle and husky and sweet.

It gave him the creeps. Couldn't he get a minute alone without her around? Without thinking about her?

He peeked into the room and saw her silhouette sitting behind a privacy curtain. Across from her, Annie Stokes propped up against several pillows. She was covered in bandages and bruises, but her lips were slightly turned up at the edges. Though the smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

He should have announced his presence. But that little smile held him back. "What happened next?" Annie asked, her voice small.

Parkinson sat behind a privacy curtain, her silhouette animated as she told her story. "So I hid the watch in my pocket and I show him the decoy watch at the same time. I'm screaming ' _Aiutami! Aiutami_! Please sir help me! A thief! She dropped this and ran that way!' and he doesn't stop to look at me at all, just grabs the watch and keeps running down the street."

"What did you do with the watch after that?"

"Oh I gave it back to the original owner. No one swindles Pansy Parkinson and gets away with it." this made Annie smile again but she quickly looked away. "What's the matter love? You can tell me, I won't reveal your secrets."

She sounded so sincere, even Neville believed it.

"I know it's ridiculous. I swear I'm not a vain person, but it bothers me more than I care to admit." Annie said before gesturing to the burn marks up and down the inside of her arms.

He watched Parkinson's shadow lean forward as she took off her jacket. She extended her arms past the edge of the curtain and Neville could see the small circular scars that started at her wrist and dotted up her pale skin to the inside of her elbow. He sucked in a breath. Well that might explain why she was so crazy… anyone who dabbled in Glimmer came out of it a little unhinged. Though… he would have never pegged her to be a user.

"See mine? Not so bad."

Annie frowned, her frame a little shaky. "Why would you do that to yourself?"

"I didn't." Parkinson replied softly.

Instantly, he wanted to throw up.

"But see, those burn marks fade with time. And that throw-upy, wanna bury yourself in a hole, rip out your hair because you feel so nauseous feeling - that will fade too."

"I'll have to take your word for it." Annie sighed and continued to shake, the first wave of withdraw from glimmer.

Parkinson stood and came around the bed to stand beside Annie, her eyes spotting him immediately. And he realized he'd been eavesdropping on their conversation. He expected anger, but she just grinned at him before tucking the blankets tighter around Annie. "You'll be chilly for a few days and you won't want to eat but try your best."

"What will you do now?"

"Well Neville Longbottom will have some questions for you and then I'm going to help him however I can."

"What if I… can't… answer the questions?"

He stepped to the side and pressed his back against the wall, far too many thoughts in his head. He looked to the two guards standing by the door as instructed and told them to take a break.

Neville hadn't been prepared for the possibility that Ms. Stokes wouldn't be ready to talk about her abduction. If she needed more time, of course he wouldn't deny that to her, not after what the poor woman went through. But he wanted to solve this case so badly. Her information would be invaluable, as the first woman to survive the encounter with these monsters…

He wanted it so badly, he was even willing to work with Parkinson for it. But his stomach continued to sink. ' _I didn't.'_ Glimmer scars up and down her arms, and she hadn't done that to herself. That meant someone else had done it to her. He continued to listen to the soft murmurs coming from the room and tried to ignored his sick feeling.

Parkinson's voice floated out to him. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, Annie. I see Auror Longbottom coming down the hall, let me go talk to him about the guards. I'll be right back."

He listened to her footsteps coming towards him. She appeared, all black leather with her dark hair slicked back into a tight ponytail. Her arms were toned and defined from years of training, just like him. She wore black on black, wearing those damn boots that could outrun anyone. He could spot the places on her body where weapons hid, but anyone else might have trouble spotting the blades she loved so much. She looked much as she always did, steady and in control. Powerful.

He just couldn't picture it. Glimmer forced into her body like one of the victims of his case? Did she come close to being a broken body? Anger, irrational and bright, flared and replaced his nausea. Was she in fact one of the first victims?

She shut the door behind her with a quiet sound and turned to look him right in the eye. "Your mother ever teach you manners? Eavesdropping isn't very nice."

It didn't help that he already felt angry at her admission, even if that admission wasn't for his ears, but she couldn't wait two seconds before giving him a hard time. His voice, when he found it, was sharp. "You quit talking about my mother, Parkinson. What's the matter with the guards?"

"You might want to think about putting female guards on her. I assume the Ministry is progressive enough to have female Aurors?" she crossed her arms, the motion pushing up her breasts against the zipper of her leather vest, a green pendant hung from her neck and dangled between her cleavage. He pretended not to notice. He tried to reign in his emotions, but all he could focus on was the little circles stamped into her arms. He'd never seen her arms bare before.

Finally he realized what she said. "Shit." he shot a quick message to Bobbi and Harry. He hadn't thought to put female guards on Annie, but it made sense. Annie Stokes was brutalized by two men. "You know I need to ask her a few questions."

"I don't think she's ready. But I can probably get her to talk."

"Because you're manipulative." his teeth clenched. He reminded himself to be cordial, that they could get more accomplished that way. He _wanted_ Annie to talk but he couldn't squash the need to fight Parkinson. Why did he want to argue with her so badly?

Her eyes narrowed. "Yeah, I am a little manipulative, as you well know. But I also understand."

He reached out without thought and grabbed her arm, bringing it forward. "Because you've been through the same thing?" he asked and again his stomach rolled.

Her fist clenched in his hand, the muscles of her arm tensing beneath the scars. "Not that it's any of your business, but yes." and she ripped her arm from his grip and gave him a mean look. That look said 'I dare you'.

So he said what he was really thinking. "And you found the secret room. You found it quick. Did you know where it was the whole time? Because you've been there before? Did you even report your rapist or you just let him go on doing the same thing to others?" Okay. He wasn't even trying to be cordial now. He was pissed.

Her eyes burned cold fire. "I heard someone say you were good at your job, Longbottom. But you couldn't be further off the mark if you tried. I guess they gave you the job just because you're friends with Saint Potter."

"And you're only here so you don't end up in jail."

"Ooo-" Pissed, she held up her fist and put it in his face. "Trust me, I'm exactly where I want to be right now."

" _Argh!_ Then help me understand-"

"The man who did this to me is dead, by my own hand." she sneered at him and grabbed his hand, placing his fingertips on top of her scars. Every muscle in his body hardened. "You think I could live with this every day if he wasn't dead? You - you are _so_ angry at this case you can't even see straight! How dare you suggest such a thing to me!"

"Tell me how you got away!" he yelled in her face, completely consumed with anger. His fingers gripped her arm again, digging into the rigid scars that seemed to be the source of his anger. He couldn't picture it! He didn't want to! Pansy Parkinson, for all the trouble and grief she'd caused him over the years, was one of the strongest, quickest, most _skilled_ women he'd ever known... if even she couldn't escape the fate Katherine and the other girls suffered... who could?

She stepped even closer to him and filled his vision with the cold burn of her bright eyes. She spoke in a quiet voice, but the harsh whisper had a severe impact. "I made him think I liked it when he fucked me and when his guard was down, I stabbed him in the heart with my dagger. And if you aren't more careful about how you speak to me, Neville Longbottom, I'll do the same to you."

She stepped back, jaw taunt and furious. "Third time's a charm." His ears popped and the words made the scar on his shoulder and the mostly healed cut on his hand burn with cold.

Then she stomped on his foot so hard he saw stars. He brought his hands up ready to fight, but she stepped back and took a calming breath. "Proving you wrong is my favorite thing to do, and I'll be happy to do it again and again."

It sounded exactly like something she would say, and strangely, it centered him to hear the familiar bite in her voice. Fuck cordial. He was done being cordial. "Prove me wrong then."

"Fine."

"Fine."

She opened the door with a feigned calmness, and gave Annie what looked like a sincere smile. "Annie, Mr. Longbottom has agreed to give you more time to rest and heal before asking any questions."

The woman sighed with obvious relief. "Oh thank you Mr. Longbottom! I'm sorry… I'm just not ready…"

 _Son of a bitch…_ "It's fine, Ms. Stokes, please let Healer Susan know if you need anything." He might actually kill Parkinson.

"We just have one request, Annie." Parkinson continued. "If there's anything that you feel you _want_ to tell us, anything at all, we're here to listen. Because we just want to stop the guys that did this to you before they can do it to someone else."

Annie paused, looking between them and Parkinson stepped forward, holding out a torn piece of paper. "If you think of anything, just give me a call, alright?"

"I -"

"Unless you've thought of something now?" Hook, line, and sinker. He wondered how she kept all the lies and her manipulations straight in her head? Did it not drive her crazy? Except… Neville had a knack for knowing when she was lying, but for the life of him, he couldn't hear it in her words. He turned his head and examined that smile on Parkinson's face, finding nothing but concern, genuine concern for the woman on the bed in front of them. _Shit._ Another thing he'd missed. His anger was really starting to affect his job. He'd read this whole situation wrong.

Annie nodded despite her obvious discomfort. "There was another woman there when I first… when they… she was gone one morning when I woke up."

"Do you know her name?" he asked, thinking about Sarah Whittler. Their abductions could have overlapped. Would Annie's body have been found next Full Moon if they hadn't found the secret room? Then another thought gave him serious pause. Did they keep the women in that room for a full month before discarding them? Literally putting their bodies out with the trash?

He was more determined now than ever to find Marcus Barton and beat the truth from him.

Annie shook her head and when she spoke again, her voice trembled. "We couldn't talk because of the…" he recalled the gag in her mouth. "-couldn't talk..." she paused to collect herself. "But I've seen her before. Once before. At a club."

"What club?" him and Parkinson asked at the same time.

"It's a wolf club called Club Dread."

Parkinson swore and turned to him.

"I assume you know of it?" he asked her, again wondering how she was so well versed in the wolf world.

"The Barton's own it." she told him through clenched teeth. _Son of a bitch._

"Let's go then."

"It's 10 in the morning, Longbottom. It won't open for another 12 hours at least. And you definitely can't go like that."

"What does that mean?"

"It means they won't let your kind in."

"My kind?"

She tapped the Auror badge pinned to this hip. "No Aurors. No Magical Law Enforcement. No Hit Wizards. We'll have to disguise you now that I think about it… you're too famous not to get recognized."

"Have you actually been there before?"

She rolled her eyes and shot a smirk towards Annie. "Please Longbottom. They named the place after me."

"A real classy place then, I'm sure."

"You see Annie?" Parkinson said instead of replying. "I get no respect!"

This made Annie burst into a fit of giggles for some unknown reason, but the smile reached her bruised eyes and Neville knew, no matter how angry he truly felt towards Parkinson, he would be grateful for the joy she brought this witch who so desperately needed it.

The two of them stepped from the room just as two female Auror's showed up and took places guarding Annie's door. They had plenty of time before they could go search for Barton at Club Dread and, he admitted to himself, he desperately needed to get his anger in check. He reached into his pocket and handed Parkinson the picture of Bre.

"Who's this?"

"Her boyfriend has been beating her up a bit. Susie asked me to look into it. You in?"

"Ooo _ooo._ A fight?"

"Possibly."

"That's my second favorite thing."

For the second time, his entire body turned hard as he remember the 'Guide' she wrote. Unlike the first time, Parkinson noticed right away and the smirk she gave him heated his blood.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Some light blood and violence in this chapter. On a personal note, this story is so much fun to write and it helps me keep my mind off things I'd rather not think about. So it truly feels amazing when I get such great feedback and support on my writing. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to message me and let me know they like what they're reading. Y'all are the bomb!

* * *

Chapter Twelve  
(Where Neville and Pansy play a game of questions )

The train ride started out awkward and silent, and she couldn't help but sneak glances at Longbottom as it ran its tracks. He was the definition of tense, his teeth clenched, shoulders tight. He sat slightly hunched over in his seat, as if trying not to draw attention to himself. She wanted to laugh. Even she could admit how good that leather jacket looked on him, and the other female occupants of the train were thinking along the same lines. They shot him appreciative glances as they got on and off their stops, until it seemed to be just the two of them.

At first, Pansy assumed that Longbottom just wasn't noticing the interested glances but as the train rolled along he got impossibly more tense. She grinned. Leaning over, she got into his space and put her chin in her hand, bracing her elbow against her knee. "I just had a thought, Longbottom."

He straightened his back in an attempt to put as much distance between them, but the seats were small. His eyes narrowed when he could go no further. "What do you want, a pat on the back?"

She fluttered her eyelashes and took her time before replying, knowing just how uncomfortable the silence made him. She knew he read that guide she wrote and what a joy it was to imagine the look on his face as he did so. She would a liar if she said she hadn't been thinking about jumping Longbottom's bones the first chance she got. But that was due to the fact that she needed to get laid pronto, not because she found him attractive. That super strength would definitely spice things up to a level she wanted in her sexual encounters. But now that she really thought about it…

She had never seen him with a woman. Never heard that he was dating anyone either. She hummed deliberately to see what he would do.

"This working relationship works best at arm's length," he said putting a hand on her shoulder, pushing her gently from his space.

 _Working relationship._ She didn't know what to think about that. "I was just thinking that woman make you uncomfortable don't they?"

"You. _You_ make me uncomfortable."

"I'm just thinking…" she paused for effect, letting her eyes look him over slowly. "...that you must not like women that way…"

His eyebrows shot up in surprise and his hand dropped. "Now who's off the mark?"

"Welllllll... until I have more to go off on, I guess this is the only conclusion I can draw…" she teased.

"Arm's length." he snapped at her when she went to lean in further. Then in a quieter voice, "I'll answer your question if you answer one of mine."

"Game of Questions? Let's play to five."

"Very well." he sat up a little straighter. "I like girls, I just don't have time to date right now."

She watched his eyes pinch ever so slightly. "You know truth is implied in the Game of Questions."

His eyes rolled. "Dating is also a little more difficult since my … accident."

"Accident?!" she gasped and looked pointedly at his crotch.

"My strength potion accident!" he growled at her. "Now my turn. Who hired you to steal The Fern?"

"Booooring." she returned the eye roll. "Hard pass on that one."

"You have to answer, it's the rules."

Daphne Greengrass, that husband murdering, two-faced, bitch, that's who. And the moment she found out why… "No one, it was a solo operation." she looked him right in the eye and held eye contact.

"You're lying."

"Believe me or not, it's the truth."

"No, you're lying. I _know_ when you lie." he informed her smuggly.

She felt her own eyebrows raise. "Everytime?"

"Everytime, now that's two questions for you. Answer mine."

 _Damn it._ "I'll answer that one last."

"Fine. Are you a wolf?" he crossed his arms over his chest and the leather of his jacket stretched.

"No, I'm not a wolf. How did you get your super strength?"

He sighed, obviously he hated talking about this subject. Which is precisely why she asked. "Hermione thought I would be a good subject to try the Ministry's new strength potion recipe on because of my physical training. Apparently they had tried it on _her_ before she got pregnant and it had little affect. The day I took the potion there was a significant increase in strength and me and a bunch of the guys went out to test it in action, ended up having to take a call, and got zapped with a lightning spell. Spent a week at St. Mungo's and the strength never faded."

"Never? That's not my next question!" she added in a rush.

He shook his head. "How did you find the secret doorway?"

Ahh. Such a loaded question and she needed to be careful about how much information she revealed to him, but this one would most likely satisfy his search for information if she needed to skirt on the other questions. She stretched as she pretended to think about it.

"Well I assume you know about the diamond. I might, or might not have, stolen it from the royal family."

"You stole the biggest, most magical diamond from the magical Italian Royal Family." he phrased it as a statement.

"Twice." she grinned. "But the best part of that story is they were the ones that trained me."

"Just like you to betray those that trusted you." he frowned.

"Because you know everything that happened." she sneered at him. "For _your_ information _they_ were the ones that betrayed me. Not the other way around."

"So they taught you everything you know, including how to find secret doorways."

"That's right. I found my way to the Academy of Immortals in Rome one summer, eager to learn. So young and bright eyed, I walked out a master rogue." she smirked at him then. "I learned a few other tricks too. My turn now. What are you going to do with the men murdering these girls when you find them?"

He paused. "What else would I do with them, I'm going to arrest them and make sure they remain in jail for the rest of their lives." he said.

"I mean, that can't be what you really want to do. I've seen how angry you are at the mistreatment of these women… I'm sure you'd like to do something _more_ to these men… I know I would."

"That … isn't my job…." he said in a low voice. "My turn now… Why did you come back?"

"Such boring questions." she leaned back and mirrored his position, legs wide and arms crossed over her chest. "I'm here to get something that I want."

"Such boring non-answers." he mocked.

"I will tell you that I won't be leaving until I get it though. My turn! Let's make this round fun. What is your favorite sexual position?"

"Ugghh!" he rolled his eyes again. "C'mon I don't want to talk to you about that."

"It's the ruuules Longbottom." she reminded him. "C'mon. Doggy style? Missionary? … 69? Reverse cowgirl?"

"What the hell is reverse -" he held up his hands as if in surrender. "You know what? Nevermind. I'm a guy. I just like sex."

"You have to give me something, Longbottom." she enjoyed the red his ears were turning.

"I just like - I just enjoy being able to you know - pleasure a woman. Doesn't matter the position." he finished off awkwardly.

She began absentmindedly playing with the strings on her cuffs. "That's the kind of thing a woman likes to hear, Longbottom. Have you ever thought about it before?" and she gestured between the two of them while giving him a sexy smirk.

"Apparently you have. Hate to crush your heart, Parkinson, but I could never sleep with someone I couldn't trust not to stab me in the back."

Sometimes he made it too easy for her. "I was hoping you'd be doing the stabbing," she hummed again. "Over and over and over-"

"Great. Okay. Moving on. My turn. What more do you know about David Rowe?"

"I said to make this round fun." she pouted.

"I find solving cases and preventing murder to be extremely fun, Parkinson."

"Fine, Auror Longbottom." she said sarcastically. "What do I know about good ole Davey Rowe? Wolf, likes rare steaks and dark beer. I met Sarah first and she and David had already mated to one another. He pushes Glim for the Vistain's…"

She paused, her heartbeat thudding in realization. It suddenly became clear to her, with alarming clarity, that her mother might have something to do with David's disappearance. Ellis Vistain wanted Pearl to be his main dealer, but for whatever her reasons she had chosen to not pick a family to side with. It worked because then it kept Posy from being associated with a family while she was still young. But Pearl was far too good at her job. Tensions would be high between them at the very least, because David was originally the one that began supplying Pearl.

"What? What are you thinking about?"

"You're out of questions Longbottom."

"And I'll remind you again you're only here to consult on this case, David Rowe is undoubtedly part of this case."

It was hard to argue with that, but she really wanted to keep him out of any business with her mother. Longbottom was a pain in her ass, but he had never done anything to deserve getting caught up in Pearl's crossfire. In fact, she realized, she wanted him safe to keep doing what he was doing. Something she never thought she would think. He was the classic good guy, strong and good hearted, with the friends and abilities to help people for no other reason than it was the right thing to do. And she liked when he chased her.

How did she get into this situation? All she wanted was her sister, safe and away from their mother. Now she had to figure out how to keep Longbottom from getting involved, how to keep him from arresting her, how to solve this case, get the bag of gold needed to to buy Posy from Pearl, and not piss off any wolves as she did so… and then the darkest of thoughts crossed her mind not for the first time… because if worse came to worst, she could just kill Pearl and take Posy…

It wouldn't be the first time she had murdered someone. Jac had deserved it. He deserved every bit of it. But could she actually go through with it? How little would Longbottom think of her if she did? Why the hell would she care what Longbottom thought of her anyways?

"Stop it." he grabbed at her wrist, and she realized her fingers had been rubbing her lip as she thought.

"Stop what?"

"I know you're only doing that to distract me." he hissed at her.

She pulled her own hand away from him. "I was just lost in thought actually. I'm trying to think of a nice way to tell you not to get involved."

"Oh for fuck's sake why do people keep telling me that?" She could hear his teeth grinding together, his fists curled. And just like that he was angry again. "This is my bloody case… so I'm already involved in case you didn't notice?"

"You're so angry again… I don't remember you like this, Longbottom. Are you in it no matter the stakes?" she asked him.

He didn't even hesitate. "I _am_ angry. I'm more than angry. I'm severely pissed off. Ever since Harry assigned me to this case and I found Katherine Whittler's body in that alley, ever since my partner Jory… all I can think about is solving this case and trying my hardest to teach women how to defend themselves from men who would commit this awful crime. So yes, I would _do anything_ to stop these killers. Not just because it's my job, because-"

"It's the right thing to do?"

"Yes. And then here you come, distracting me, taunting me, wasting my time-"

"I will help you solve this case, Neville."

He stopped in his rant, his surprise at hearing her use his first name mirrored her own. She hadn't meant to use his first name, but it came out and it stunned them both. "Do you really think I would want what happened to me to keep happening to others?" she continued softly.

She sucked in a harsh breath and looked around, suddenly thinking about Pearl… and the connection to David Rowe. She was scared shitless of her own mother, scared more of the things done to Theo. It was because of that she made it habit to let everyone know, loudly, wherever she went, that she didn't have friends, didn't have anyone she cared enough about for Pearl to use against her. The train car was mostly empty besides them, just some teenager at the end of the car with headphones in, but Pansy knew Pearl had spies everywhere. Because of her work.

Which started with David Rowe... "I'll tell you what I think I know… but not here. It has to be in private."

"More tricks?"

"No, idiot. I don't want to get you killed. This is our stop."

He stood when she did and he placed his hand around her arm, funny how that wasn't bothering her as much. "How do I know you'll answer my questions?"

The train car came to a harsh stop, but his grip held her tight. "I guess you're just going to have to trust me…"

He didn't miss her implication either.

oOo

They arrived by taxi in front of a run down building and she patted herself down to make sure she was ready for a real fight.

"Taking inventory?"

"Yep." she pulled out her favorite dagger and took comfort in the familiar weight, before sliding it back into her sheath hidden beneath her jacket.

"We're on the same side on this one, so if you stab me with that thing even on accident…" he warned.

"You'll what?"

"I'll arrest you so… on second thought yes please stab me."

She laughed. "I do enjoy making men beg for it."

"We may not even have to fight. We're just checking up on her. If she's missing, we'll search for any clues then we need to get back to the offices and update Harry and Bobbi about what Ms. Stokes said."

"A good fight might loosen you up a bit, Longbottom."

He walked up to the dirt darkened front doors, and turned the handle. "Do you want to - Nevermind."

The door swung open and he held it for her. "What were you going to say?"

"Nothing." he gestured her inside. "Bre's place is on the third floor."

"Don't clam up now, Longbottom. We're finally making progress." she told him, walking to the elevator. The button pushed in but nothing happened. They moved to the stairwell together.

"I was going to ask if you wanted to spar later."

She had to shoulder the stairwell door open, which allowed her the moment to think on that. She would _love_ to spar with him. They were so evenly matched, yet because of their different styles and stature, it would be a perfect opportunity to test their limits. "What makes you think I would want to?"

He cleared his throat and said in a high mocking tone, "Anybody else want to fight? Unless you're Neville Longbottom you don't stand a chance!"

"Terrible imitation, and it's true. If that Avery fellow tries to touch me again I'll cut off his hand."

"Do you have to resort to violence for everything?"

"No." she said plainly. "This is her door."

He knocked his knuckles against the door three times and Pansy felt mesmerized by the movement. There she went again, feeling attracted to weird things about him, but they looked so _strong._ She couldn't help but wonder how it would feel to have those fingers sliding against her own flesh, digging deep... She felt his fingers wrap around her wrist before she realized she had been rubbing her bottom lip with her fingertips again.

"I told you not to do that." he said in a low voice.

She sucked in a breath. "Why not? Wouldn't you like to be distracted by me a little, Longbottom?"

"I told you that I wouldn't sleep with someone I couldn't trust." and he knocked against the door again, this time trying the handle. "Damn it's locked. We'll have to come back."

She rolled her eyes, bringing out her picks and taking a quick look around to make sure they were alone. "C'mon now."

"You can't. No illegal activities while you're consulting."

"I'm not technically consulting right now. Here look the other way if it makes you feel better Auror Longbottom. I know you don't want to come back." she brushed against him as she stood in front of the door, sliding her beloved picks into the lock. It clicked a bare few seconds later. "Oh would you look at that it just came open on its own!"

"God you'll be the death of me, Parkinson."

"Admit that doing things my way is nice sometimes." she pushed the door open fully.

"Hello? Bre? It's Neville Longbottom." he stepped into the room ahead of her, hand on his wand at his hip.

They split off and searched the tiny room for any clues. A small couch sat against the opposite wall, with a coffee table loaded with fashion magazines and Chinese take out menus. The galley kitchen looked empty except for a kettle on the stove top and a single mug sat beside the sink. Everything looked simple and cheap, yet it had all been kept clean.

Two doors stood to the right, one to a tiny bathroom. The other closed off, presumably leading to the bedroom. As she approached it the door opened and a slender Bre slipped through and closed it behind her quickly. "Sorry - hello, can I help you?"

"Bre? Susan sent me to check up on you. You missed an appointment." Neville said in his Auror Voice.

And it was then Pansy realized he'd been speaking to her normally for awhile now, no huffy growling or speaking to her as if she were criminal scum.

Bre shuddered. "I'm fine." she shook her head no as she said it, the girl's hollow eyes darting from Neville to the bedroom door. "I'm just feeling a bit under the weather. Please tell Susan I'll call to reschedule."

Her and Neville seemed to move at the same time, Neville gesturing for Bre to step towards him as Pansy took quiet steps towards the bedroom door. "I can do that. So there's no one else here then?"

"No." Bre nodded her head yes. "Just me. Just Bre…"

Pansy caught the edge of a dark bruise just under the girl's shirt collar, the tremble in her small frame, and her trainer Tony's voice sounded loudly in her memory. _Any man that uses his strength to hurt a woman is no man at all, and any who stand by and let it happen when they have the ability to stop it are just as culpable._ The memory of Tony's lessons helped channel her rage and it came forward on command. Her boot came up and she kicked the bedroom door in with force, the door swung violently and hit something, or someone, standing immediately behind it.

"Arrrghh!"

Pathetically, Bre's boyfriend fell backwards and onto the ground, clutching at his nose. "Ohh! Well who is this then?" Pansy walked around him in a circle, flipping her blade through her fingers. "Is this the guy that put that bruise on your neck, Ms. Bre? Perhaps I should return the favor."

"You broke my nose _bitch!"_ Thrill rushed through her veins. She _loved_ when men called her bitch… better yet, she loved making men regret calling her bitch.

"Put the dagger away, Parkinson. We'll arrest him and take him to the offices." Neville snapped. He grabbed onto Bre and leaned to her level, looking her in the eye. "Is there anyone else here?"

"No just him. Please take him away from me!" she shouted.

"I'm not going anywhere!" Bre's boyfriend shouted. Pansy leaned down and grabbed his nose between her fingers. "Ahhhh!"

"I believe my partner said you're going to the offices. If you have a problem with that, you can deal with me instead."

His response was to take a clumsy swing at her.

"Oh great." she heard Neville mutter.

She smiled.

oOo

Parkinson easily dodged the swing from Bre's boyfriend, took a moment to shoot a happy grin, and then jumped into action. Neville watched her hook her ankle behind the boyfriend's knee to mess up his balance, her hand wrapped around his wrist, and in a smooth, fluid move he was flipped over her shoulder and fell to the floor ungracefully. She pinned him and pushed on the back of his neck, pressing his broken nose into the hardwood floor.

"Wow, I want to learn to do _that._ " Bre said beside him.

"I teach self defense classes at The Conservatory on Saturday mornings." he handed her a card from his back pocket, then grabbed his cuffs from the other. "Parkinson!"

He tossed them and she caught the cuffs with ease with one hand, the other pushing on the back of the man's neck.

"Expect a couple of Patrol Officers to stop by and get your statement."

"Thank you so much. Thank you both. I… I broke up with him when I found out I was pregnant… I never expected him to act like this though..."

"Thank Susan. She sent us, she was worried."

"I'll let her know I'm okay." Bre promised him before turning her attention to Parkinson and the boyfriend.

The man looked up through the strands of his hair, blood dripping from his nose. "You'll be missing me, Bre! You can't go a day without me!"

"Fuck you, Ricky! You better hope magic doesn't start working again otherwise I would have cursed you weeks ago!"

Neville stepped between them, "That's enough. Bre, lock your door after we leave." he turned to Parkinson.

"You promised me a real fight." she pouted up at him, her legs straddled either side of Bre's boyfriend, keeping the struggling man pinned down.

"Well it's not always so easy." he told her and pulled the man up by his cuffed wrists. "Let's go."

She stood, and leaned into the taller form of Ricky, running her blade through her fingers. "That was _too_ easy."

Out in the hallway, he pushed on Ricky, the douchebag boyfriend, to make sure he wouldn't make an attempt to escape. What he wasn't expecting was for Ricky to kick at the door across from Bre's. "Oi! Get the boys!" Ricky shouted.

Neville jerked him away from the door just as it opened and three more fellows joined them in the small, increasingly cramped hallway. Big, brutish thugs. It was the only way he could describe them as they cracked their knuckles threateningly. He wanted to roll his eyes.

Behind them Bre slammed the door with a panicked shout. He looked to Parkinson, "Try not to kill them, won't you?"

"Stupid 1, Stupid 2, and - ugh - You're just Ugly." she counted them. The last guy stepped forward menacingly. She looked ahead, watching the movement of the men and Neville got caught up with the line of her neck as it disappeared beneath the collar of her leather vest. He spotted a small scar behind her ear, just under her dark hair, and he wondered when she got it, and how. She turned her head towards him, giving him a smirk just as she dashed forward and he watched as her hair flew behind her, covering the raised scar from his view. Goosebumps raised the skin on his neck.

Neville quickly shook his head to clear his mind just as he heard the sharp sound of flesh hitting flesh. He immediately realized Ricky was struggling to free himself from his grip. "Get the little one!" he shouted at the other men. "That stupid _cunt_ broke my nose!"

Too late, he realized he didn't give a shit about this man, a man who laid his hands on a woman in violence and who dared called Parkinson such a foul word. He pushed Ricky into the wall with significant force, watched the man's head bounce on the impact, and his body crumbled to the floor, knocked out. He turned and saw one man crawling towards the stairwell as Parkinson fought the other two. Immediately he jumped into the brawl, grabbing Parkinson when she would have went flying into the wall beside him.

She used to the leverage to kick up the wall, spinning back around and landing a kick directly to one thug's head. She landed gracefully, coming back up to block a punch. He reached forward and grabbed the guy by the neck, bringing him directly into Parkinson's elbow as she swung it up. The man fell to the ground, knocked clear out. She winked at him as she went for the second guy - "C'mer Ugly!" - and without a thought he went for the one crawling towards the stairwell. Neville easily dragged him back to the group with a firm " _Stay!"_ not that he could go anywhere with his ankle broken as it was.

He turned just in time to see the last guy charge like a bull directly at Parkinson. They slammed into Bre's closed door with a shout, and the force of it tore the door from its hinges. Neville ran over immediately, grabbing Bre out of the way as Parkinson and 'Ugly' rolled around on the ground violently. By the time he got her out of the way and turned back to the fight, Parkinson rolled them both over with a grunt, her dagger pressing into the man's exposed neck.

Everyone in the room went still. "Now you could have really hurt me, what should I do about that?"

As quickly as the fight started, it was over. He took the cuffs off Ricky, who was knocked out and didn't need them anymore, and put them on the biggest guy, tightening them when he complained.

"Didn't even break a sweat. Nice moves, Longbottom." she walked to the guy he'd stopped from reaching the stairwell.

"How'd he break that?" he asked, pointing to the guy's ankle.

"He tripped when he went for me. Idiot." she laughed and slipped her dagger back into her sheath with an affectionate pat. Then she walked over and stepped onto the man's ankle. "Ahhhh!"

"Oh please. You did this to yourself."

"I'm sorry." he panted. "I'm sorry. Oh lord I'm sorry!"

"You're going to leave Ms. Bre alone. She has my phone number. If you do not leave her alone, she's going to call me and I will pay you another visit. Got it? Good." She emphasised the last word by increasing the pressure on his broken ankle and Neville would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the scene.

Still he felt the need to argue with her a bit. He lowered his voice. "Parkinson…"

She turned and smiled, a _real_ smile, at him. Full of teeth behind her little bow shaped lips while a little blood dripped from the corner. "Never a dull moment, eh?" she said to him as his fingers pushed in the button on his walkie. Suddenly, he remembered what it was like to have a partner again.

oOo

A few hours later he dropped a bag of sandwiches in front of Parkinson before taking a seat behind his desk. "Hal's coming with us tonight."

"Smart." she unwrapped the foil around one sandwich and devoured it quickly. "Don't wear anything too… Neville-ish." she told him with her mouth full.

"What does that mean?" he asked, digging into his own sandwich.

"No badge, no wand, no plaid."

"What's wrong with plaid?"

"If you show up to Club Dread wearing plaid, they will literally kill you."

"And what will you be wearing then?"

She smirked at him and crumbled up her trash into a little ball, tossing it playfully at him as she stood up. "You never said no, by the way."

He finished chewing. "What do you mean?"

"I asked wouldn't you like to be distracted by me a little. And you never said no."

He opened his mouth to argue but no sound came out.

"See you tonight, _Neville._ "

oOo

Just outside of the city, in a small duplex brick house, David Rowe sobbed over a picture of his lost mate. The picture didn't move, and it felt like an insult. Sarah had danced like the wind, movement second nature to her. And he had never truly loved anyone until he met her.

His connections had made him the go to guy when Glimmer first got popular with the wolves. It was good money, especially with the families controlling the flow of the drug. It kept the market from getting flooded and the quality of the Glim was always better, keeping the prices high. He never regretted getting into the game, not through the countless shady deals and violent outbursts from his customers, not even when he partnered up with the Vistain's, who were the scariest wolves he knew. He didn't regret it.

Until he met Pearl Parkinson. Whatever the witch was doing with the Greengrass girl hadn't been his business, though he knew they were testing Glimmer in some way. He speculated it was some kind of research into the purity, since Pearl always bought the best stuff from him…

But he didn't care anymore… because whatever she did, it had gotten Sarah killed. It had gotten countless witches murdered. But Sarah was _his…_ and she was _gone..._ He knew the Barton's were in on it, he just didn't know which one… when he found out, he was going to tear them all to shreds... little, small pieces… He continued to sob, unsure of how to proceed. He knew Vistain was looking for him, but fuck him.

Fuck everything. He'd given his all to the family and they didn't give a fuck about him or Sarah. Sarah… dead… His mate. Murdered.

He was going to do the same to everyone else involved.

The clock above the stove top clicked over and chimed 6 times. Only a few more hours… he told himself. He got up and went to the writing desk, pulling open the rightmost drawer. Just a few more hours… they'll all be at Club Dread tonight. All the big players, trying to push their product… It had been a few days since the last Full Moon… time enough to recover. Time enough to get back into shape to party… to get Glim… to fuck like wolves liked to fuck.

He fingered the cold metal. Wands didn't work anymore, not since Magic went wonky. He wasn't dumb enough to think the wolves didn't have anything to do with that. As the population kept growing, the more erratic magic became, the less reliable it was. It was a no brainer. But he didn't need magic.

He picked up the gun. He wasn't physically strong, but this would give him an advantage.

Just a few more hours….


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N** : A little bunny told me cliffhangers were a cool thing. *runs away laughing evilly*

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

(The one with the tiny, _tiny_ leather skirt)

There just wasn't that much that shocked Neville anymore. He'd been through a war, the rebuilding, the fall of magic, and an active career as an Auror. He'd chased down everything from dark wizards with devious plots to creepy pervs. He'd survived the death of his gran, and losing his partner. He put up with Bobbi O'Donnell on a daily basis.

But nothing could have prepared him for the moment Pansy Parkinson walked into his office wearing the tightest, tiniest leather skirt he'd ever seen on a woman. It cut off low on her hips, and only went down a few _inches_ at most, just covering what needed to be covered. The panels on the side of the skirt were sheer black lace, which continued up her torso to where a silver choker circled her neck. Beneath the shirt of sheer lace she wore a solid black bra held together with strings. Her shoulders were bare, but her sleeves were long, and as far as he could see, concealed several weapons. Her favorite dagger was tucked into her right boot where the leather wrapped hilt could be grabbed quickly if needed.

Good Gryffindor… this woman was going to be the death of him, he just knew it.

She walked in without hesitation, passing Les to come around the desk and put her hand on Neville's shoulder. She pushed him back in his chair and bent over, getting in his face. "What do you think, Longbottom? It's not too _distracting,_ is it?"

"Uhhh -" his brain shut down. Blood rushed beneath his skin and he didn't know if his body was preparing for a fight or something else. All he could think about was that damn skirt, all he could see was that _damn tiny skirt._

Except for the one brain cell still working that told him she was enjoying this. She turned her head and looked to Les, who sat mouth agape staring at her with wide eyes. "What do you think Les? Do _you_ like what you see?"

The emerald pendant she wore swung in Neville's face distracting him from the damn, damn skirt, and it glinted in the light. It drew his eyes right behind it, her breasts pushed up by that damn black bra strained against the lace, not but a few inches from his face. How could something so small be so plump?

"Fa-fa-fa-finnneee…." Les stood up stiffly. "Tha-there's that file you wanted LB! And I'm leaving now," nervous laughter. "- because I have dinner plans with my mother because we have dinner once a week to talk about my career and friends and hobbies," he counted on his fingers, "-and the-the-the everyday stuff that goes on in my life and all her cats _she has so many cats -_ then she makes me ice cream and -" Les finished lamely, backing out of the office as he spoke.

Neville resisted the urge to cover his face. If ever there was a time for Les to shut up… well he just missed it. But that embarrassing moment helped him focus least two other brain cells and he could think again. Parkinson turned to him the moment Les stumbled out of sight still muttering about his mother's many cats, grinning wickedly. He lifted his eyes to meet hers, determined not to let her realize just how stunned he was by her outfit and the sudden, shocking realization that he was very much attracted to her. Where the hell had that come from? He tried to remind himself that he hated her… _but the skirt…_ oh god the skirt.

His eyes looked downwards again. Her legs beneath the leather were milky white and well defined all the way down to her boots. Her torso too, beneath what barely passed for a shirt, he glimpsed lean, defined muscle that could only be gained from dedicated training. He would know, because he was much the same. Even more, silvery scars crisscrossed in random places across her skin like a dramatic painting. And it shouldn't have surprised him, but it did. Pansy Parkinson was not some soft petty thief as he'd once believed.

She was a warrior, her blade as sharp as she was cruel.

And he _liked_ it.

"That's not what you're wearing, I hope?" she asked in that biting voice of hers.

"What's the matter with it?" Black shirt and jeans fit in anywhere.

"They'll have you pegged as an Auror the moment you step foot through the door. Shame we really will have to disguise you."

"Shame?" he teased for her wording. He felt the corner of his mouth tilt up against his will. Why was he teasing her? What the hell was happening?

"Yep," she leaned in even closer. "We'll have to make you at least a little bit attractive. They don't let ugly in."

"Guess Hal and I can leave you at the door." he said without hesitation. He meant it to be rude, to push her out of his space, but it sounded like a laugh, like more teasing. Her nails dug into his shoulder and she seemed to relish the moment before she stood straight, her dagger in her hand. It came forward and he gripped his fingers around her wrist, just stopping it a bare inch from his shoulder. "Parkinson…" he warned.

"Peace, Longbottom. Your shirt won't fit in."

Reluctantly, he released her hand and she went to work, tearing the sleeves from his simple black tee shirt. "You have to wear something silver, to show you're human."

"Wouldn't they be able to tell I'm human anyway? From scent?"

"It's a respect thing. You're entering their territory, it's best to be up front with wolves. And no chains. Wolves _hate_ chains."

"Will this do?" he pulled a silver belt buckle from his desk, he hated being without a belt so he kept an extra on hand just in case.

"Just so." she moved to his right shoulder and ripped the sleeve there, caught sight of the scar _she_ gave him and smirked, running a finger against the raised skin.

It sent an icy shiver through his body.

"Still feels cold sometimes." he told her instead of telling her to stop it. But the memory of her stabbing him helped temper his sudden attraction, after all it was that incident that prompted him to put up the picture of her on his dart board.

"Lucky you."

"Lucky me?"

She hummed again, finger still caressing the scar. "I was aiming for the heart." she told him.

"Unlucky you."

"Unlucky me?"

"If I died, who would you torture on a daily basis?" he asked.

She smirked and threw the shredded remains of his sleeves over her shoulder. "If I tortured you, I'd never let you die. Especially now that I got you all alone."

Shit. What the hell was he doing? Suddenly uncomfortable, he sat up and pushed her out of his immediate space, ignoring the smug smirk she was giving him. How did he always manage to allow her the upper hand in their conversations? "Alone. Right." he scolded himself. "Time for you to answer my questions about David Rowe."

She rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue at the same time. "Now that doesn't look half bad." she said instead, gesturing to his shoulders. Then she took out her wand.

"Ah I don't think so." he said pushing the wand away automatically.

"Don't trust me yet?" she twirled her wand in her hand. "You know I'm far less dangerous with this than a knife."

He eyed her wand as it twirled back and forth between her fingers. Less dangerous? He'd never be dumb enough to use those words to describe her. "Fine." why did he say fine? "One wrong move though…"

"You _wish_ I would," she smiled. "So we could fight again."

"No, that's _you._ You want to fight, not me."

"If you say so…" She lifted her wand and pointed it at his face, transporting him back to 7th year, when it seemed like he was on the losing side of the war. Before he knew it, his own wand was out and pointed directly at her face. Her breath hitched, pushing her breasts up against that damn lace, but her hand held steady.

"I knew you wanted to fight." she told him in a breathy voice. "What would it take to get you to start trusting me, Longbottom?"

"Trust is earned."

She stepped into him. "Then let me earn it." and she gently pushed his wand away. "Or, you know, you could stay here. Hally and I can go, see what we learn. I'm sure he'd be _more than_ happy to escort me."

He thought of Hal dancing with Parkinson on a crowded dance floor, of her blasted skirt slowly riding up her legs as she moved. "I'm sure he would, with you dressed like that."

"Oh? What's that supposed to mean?"

"My gran used to say that some things are better left to the imagination."

She made a show of tilting her head and slowly biting down on her lip, of dancing her fingers across his chest as she leaned in. Every move purposefully made to drive him bat shit crazy. And in a much quieter voice she said to him, "Trust me, you couldn't _imagine_ the kinds of things I would do to you…"

He grabbed her wrist again, halting her fingers from touching his chest. "Why would you even want that?"

She paused. _Finally._ And as she pulled her hand from his grip she seemed to consider his words very carefully. "Because it'd be fun." she shrugged.

He was already shaking his head. "Liar."

She narrowed her eyes at his one word and crossed her arms in a huff. "I feel bad for you."

Now it was his turn to smirk. "Lying, Parkinson. Always lying."

"Because I _want to._ " she emphasised and turned her back to him. "I'm stressed out and I either need my trainer to come and kick my ass or I need an all night fuck fest." She glanced at him over her shoulder. "And my trainer isn't on this continent right now."

He considered her for a long moment and found her answer surprisingly honest. Which is something he couldn't have said about her even a week ago, but at the same time he couldn't ignore their entire past history. Years of being on opposite sides sat heavily on his mind. Slytherin vs Gryffindor had turned into a war, then it had been thief vs auror, now it was… what? They'd been at each other's throats for years, and her consulting on his case was one thing, them sleeping together something else entirely. It all came down to her one question, could he trust her?

"Go on and disguise me then. If you're up for it after we visit Club Dread, we can spar."

Her eyebrow went up as her wand came out, and he was surprised to find her magic felt soft and relaxing, the complete opposite of her personality. And it didn't hurt, the magic didn't bite or sputter or falter in any way. Instead he felt his features rearrange, his hair lengthen past his ears, felt a beard sprout out from his jaw and chin. Her hand came out and her fingers ran through the stubble, caressing his jaw. And he focused on the instant pleasure than ran across her face instead of thinking about his own. "Mmm…"

"C'mon you two love birds," Hal said from the doorway. "I don't have all night to babysit you."

oOo

Hal went on ahead of them so it would seem like they arrived separately, but she stuck with Longbottom because she wasn't completely sure that he wouldn't get pegged as an Auror right away. She'd lightened and lengthened his hair, and made his features average, less recognizable. His eyes smaller, because people were more likely to remember larger eyes. She grew out his stubble to make him seem gruffier, which she found sexy as hell, but still she could tell it was him. Short of making him completely transform, she wasn't sure what else she could do, but then Hal had said his disguise was good so she left it at that.

She took him through a set of double barred doors and down a narrow set of damp stone stairs. It put them into a small alcove where a man leaned against a large metal door with an old fashioned circular door handle. He eyed her from head to toe before she stretched her neck for him, bringing attention to the silver that circled there. He spent less time eyeing Longbottom and opened the door with a special knock. The moment the door cracked open, a pumping rhythm of sound pounded their ears and a hazy purple light filled their vision.

Together they walked in and she was happy to see that the place remained much the same. The music was several years behind and the clientele was trashy and bold. The room was two stories high, with the center a wide open dance floor with raised platforms dotted here and there for dancers to bring the patrons in closer. The upper floor contained private rooms for those who could afford it, and a private bar for the Barton family and their honored guests overlooking the dance area behind a wrought-iron balcony.

The entire place was packed with wolves and charged with sexual tension as only wolves could do. They hung from the balconies, pushed lovers into dark corners, splayed each other out over tables and the bar top doing anything from Glim to outright fucking. Dirty and rough, it wasn't a place Ellis Vistain would ever be caught in. But it was exactly the kind of place Pansy liked because she liked dirty and rough. And more, their main goal was to find Marcus Barton… and she spotted him immediately at the Barton's private bar top with a beer in his hand and a busty, barely dressed blonde on his arm. Behind him was his sister Emily Barton. Perfect.

Hally was already at one of the bars along the wall on the bottom floor, a drink and a crowd of women dancing around him. He would be the perfect backup just in case anything went south but this was a wolf club, and things tended to get violent quickly. Longbottom followed her lead through the crowd of people and she felt his eyes burning a line up and down her legs. The women reached out for him, running their grubby hands up and down his bare arms, tracing the silver of his belt buckle even though it burned. Pansy glared at them until they switched to someone else to grope, but that burn never stopped. When they stepped onto the floor, she turned and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. She put her mouth against his ear and started dancing.

"Hally's to our left. Marcus Barton is above my head."

His eyes darted up and then back down to her with a nod, and then something strange happened. He put his hands on her hips and started moving with her. Close contact. Dear god, she couldn't wait to spar with him. "Is that Emily Barton with him?" he asked, his lips directly against her ear.

She nodded and resisted the urge to shiver. The song changed, the tempo faster than the one before it. "Don't let her gender fool you. She's the oldest sibling and she's set to take over when their father decides to step down as head of the family."

He nodded his understanding. "We need to get upstairs."

She smiled. "Just can't let Marcus know we're coming. It would be best to get him alone, away from his siblings, because he's a total brown noser when he's around family. Do you have any gold? Can get a private room, maybe corner him in."

"Think he'll recognize me? Or should we send Hal?"

"He knows Hal and I are close, you go." She whispered more instructions in his ear. His fingers gripped a little lower, and a little tighter, and she couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. This man was definitely thinking about what she said earlier. And now they were _dancing_. She made sure to accidentally on purpose push further into his space. He opened his mouth and took a breath in, about to speak, and weirdly she hoped he was about to yell at her, when instead a pair of hands grabbed her arms and pulled her away into a dance.

She looked up at Hally with annoyance, even when he dipped her down like he used to do. She wanted Longbottom to do the dipping, what was Hal up to? She caught Longbottom's strange, pinched face before he began making his way from them and to the stairs leading up.

"We got a problem," Hally told her a second later. "Italians."

"What?" she lifted up and buried her face into Hally's chest, letting him lead their dance. Just what she needed. Freaking. Italians.

"About six of them, they have a table upstairs. They lookin' for you girl." Hally kept them dancing into the next song and she thought long and hard about what to do. Longbottom wouldn't understand. He couldn't just slap some handcuffs on them and haul them down to the offices to be processed.

The Italians were after her head. Shit.

"Can you distract them? Longbottom's gone to get a private room so we can talk to Marcus alone."

"Maybe. Lemme talk to the lads." he danced them to the edge of the dance floor. "You still tryin' to make that man jealous, girl?"

"Why do you ask?"

Hal seemed to struggle a moment, his face frowned at the corners and she wanted to tug at his lips to undo it. They had always been friends, and for a brief time lovers, but above all else she knew she could trust him.

Until he said, "'Cause I seen a lot of men look at you that way, myself included… but I ain't ever seen you look at a man like that before." then he leaned in and kissed her. It wasn't some passing peck. It was hunger and heat, his hands digging tightly into her shoulders as his mouth devoured her own. But it felt akin to the feeling she got when she kissed Theo. It was familiar, it was known, and sure it could get a little heat out of her, but it just wasn't what she wanted.

She licked her lips when Hal released her with a wink, his tall form disappearing through the crowd to go distract the Italians, and slowly, so slowly she felt the burn of Longbottom's eyes on her again.

That burn did a lot more than Hal's kiss had. There were two choices here. She could be an adult, and truly acknowledge the powerful attraction between them… or she could fuck with him a little more.

She swayed with the music, running her hands up and down her sides as she did, drawing attention to every bit of exposed skin as she could. She pumped with the music, allowing the flashy lights and crowd of sweaty wolves to surround her, and she could smell the caustic burn of Glimmer nearby. It ramped up the tension and heat in the room exponentially. Goosebumps popped up along her shoulders and neck as the music got louder and the crowd got a little closer. But nothing could take away the feeling of Longbottom watching her.

Turning with the beat she gave into the urge to look up at him. He leaned over the balcony, discreetly tapping the key to a private room against the bar letting her know they had a room for their plan, but his eyes were pinned to her, watching every move. He made no other gestures, no movement at all, just kept his eyes steady and fast on her and she wondered how long two people could hate each other before it turned into something else. Something completely different.

Because she wanted to go up there and rub away the magic disguising him with her fingers until he looked like himself again… and that wasn't hate. It wasn't anything she was quite comfortable with either.

He mouthed, 'Let's go' at her and nodded to the private bar while maintaining that steady gaze. A genuine pout came forward, guess it was time to work.

oOo

He watched Parkinson dip into the room he spent a stupid amount of gold on for only an hour and remembered the clear instructions she gave him before Hal had taken her away. He kept his head bowed and his stance as non threatening as possible as he walked up to the Barton's private bar.

It took everything he had not to blow his cover and arrest every single one of the patrons at the bar for possession of Glimmer. It was just out on the bar top for anyone to see. The small crystal chunks ranged from pale golds to light reds to faded greens, indicating a weaker essence of magic. The high wouldn't be as good, nor last as long. But that didn't matter because even the weaker Glim was just as highly addictive as the stronger stuff.

Gold was being passed around with each bag of the crystals sold, wolves slinking off into a dark corner to abuse the drug that would either send them into a sweet, blissful oblivion or turn them into a sex crazed fiend. Behind the bar was a large black sign with white lettering glaring brightly under the black light. It read: WOLVES AREN'T FRIENDS.

The sign made Neville's stomach drop. This was a wolf club, should have been a wolf friendly zone surely. He'd have to talk to Parkinson about it later, he couldn't be distracted now as he had been since the moment Parkinson walked into his office wearing that _god damned leather skirt._ He walked up to Marcus Barton and gave an obvious bow of his head.

"This one wants something from you little brother." Emily Barton sat on the tallest bar stool, back straight, nails sharp, and eyes a deep pit of black. The black light made her spiky pale hair seem electric when she turned towards him. Her eyes screamed suspicion but he thought that look was for everyone, not just him. "Brave little human."

Little? He hadn't been called little in a long time.

"Leave him alone, sissy. He's brave indeed for coming up here at all."

Marcus seemed a cat in the cream, a drink in his hand, surrounded by beautiful wolves that all seemed to want to please him. The females pawed at Barton, making overly sexual gestures that seemed gaudy and tasteless compared to when Parkinson flirted excessively with him. Hell, he never thought he would think of her as classy with the way she was dressed tonight, but now he wondered just where she learned such moves from? It was far more appealing than what he was witnessing with Barton.

' _Marcus will eventually make eye contact, wait a second and then look down and to the side without blinking.'_ Parkinson told him. He waited for Barton to acknowledge him, keeping his head slightly bowed, but the wolf took his time.

Emily said, "Brave or not I won't be allowing any humans in this place when I'm head of the family. Cannon fodder. All of them."

"Don't be so grumpy big sister, try to make a friend once in awhile."

Her teeth came out. "Wolves aren't friends." she told him in a rude voice.

It was obvious how Emily Barton felt about humans. He wondered if she was responsible for the sign behind the bar.

"Oh shut it. Come on over, friend!" Barton waved him over and finally met his gaze. Neville counted to two, then looked down and to the left as he shuffled over, purposely making himself seem clumsy. It wasn't hard to do.

"Mr. Barton. My mistress wishes me to extend her invitation to you to join her in a private room."

"Why choose one when I could have several?" he chomped his teeth in the direction of the nearest girl, sending the whole gaggle all into sexual squeals of delight.

He recalled exactly what Parkinson said. After all, she knew Barton far better than he. "She says, 'The mystery of it will be as sweet as she tastes.'..." he let the last word hang in the air between them and suppressed the urge to smile when Barton pushed the nearby girls away and stood up.

"Well if that doesn't sound the most delightful of invitations…"

"I'd put my money on a fat cow," Emily sneered.

"Ah sweet sister, but I've always enjoyed a little extra cushioning." Barton gave him a wink and gestured for him to lead the way.

It shouldn't keep surprising him that Parkinson knew what she was doing, but he breathed a sigh of relief anyways. He kept his head bowed down and thought on that as he led Marcus Barton away from the private bar and all the way to the end of the line of doors that led to the private rooms, knocking three times before he turned the knob. He gave what he hoped was an acceptable gesture for Barton to enter the room ahead of him and took a quick look around before he himself entered the room.

A small room with no windows and painted black walls, a lit candle in the corner was the only source of light. It cast a dim glow on a four poster bed that sat in the very center of the room, silk sheets and pillows matched the rest of the room. And Neville was certainly glad there wasn't a black light shining in here.

A quick thump, a gurgled shout, and Parkinson already had Marcus in a headlock with her dagger pressed flush against his neck, her other hand gripping the wolf's hair tightly holding his head in place. Neville just assumed he would be the muscle, but he kept forgetting how truly strong Parkinson was. Instead he crossed his arms and stood sentinel by the door, allowing her to handle it.

And a secret part of him didn't want to get in her way because while she may look calm, Neville knew better. There was a finely tuned rage shimmering beneath her skin. He'd felt that same rage the night at The Conservatory.

"Pan Pan!" Marcus shouted, his voice panicky and no longer full of smooth confidence as it had been only a short moment ago. "I didn't-"

"I want you to think carefully on your next words, Marcus Barton." Parkinson said with such sharp icy calmness it cut through the room leaving only silence.

"How about you piss me the fuck off?" he spat, but to Neville it sounded like all bravado.

"Ho ho!" she pressed a little harder, "What were you doing at that alley, Barton? You _know_ what I can do to you in an hour don't you?"

"Oh the jokes I would make if you didn't have Mr. Stabby pressed against my throat." Mr. Stabby? Had Parkinson named her dagger? A line of red appeared across Barton's neck.

"Okay! Okay! Okay!" he shouted, breaking easily.

"I'll ask again, what were you doing in that alley?" she yelled.

"I heard about Sarah."

"Yeah, because you tortured and raped her?" Parkinson spat angrily.

"No, c'mon Pan Pan, you know me better than that, I wouldn't," he paused and Neville watched Parkinson release him with a shove, her dagger disappearing too quickly for his eyes to follow. Marcus leaned against the bedpost, coughing a few times as he rubbed his neck frantically.

"Keep talking," she demanded.

"I heard about Sarah and when I found out where she was found, I knew my family owned property in the area so I did a little digging. We own the surrounding buildings except for one, so I wanted to make sure this wasn't going to cause the family any political problems…" He trailed off.

"And then?" she said impatiently.

"I didn't know." he said quickly. "I swear I didn't know!"

"Didn't know about what?" Parkinson pressed. "The women? Or the torture room?"

Marcus blinked.

"Who are you protecting?" Neville asked from the door.

"C'mon Pan Pan,"

"Stop calling me that Marcus, we're no longer lovers."

"Let the families take care of it, now that Sarah - now that a wolfmate was found my father can dispense judgement. Wolf judgement!"

"There shouldn't _be_ families!" she shouted at him.

"How can you say that?!" Marcus shouted back.

"What is wolf judgement?" Neville interjected.

"A quick death." Parkinson told him bitterly.

"Are you joking?" he blinked and suddenly he was across the room, pushing Marcus up against the wall, his grip around the man's throat. "A quick death? Those women were tortured and raped for _weeks_ before they were put out of their misery."

"The killer…" Marcus gasped, sweaty fingers clawing at Neville's immovable grip on his neck. "We'll take care of him, there won't be anymore murders."

"It's Sean isn't it?" Parkinson said from behind, her voice somehow small. "You're trying to protect your brother, aren't you?"

Marcus's eyes bulged. "Look I'm sorry about the other witches, but if a wolf did that to Sarah, wolf justice must be met."

"That's a family rule though." Parkinson shouted.

"That law will _never pass!"_ Marcus shouted back.

Neville backed up a step and for the second time that night Marcus clutched at his own neck, frantically trying to catch his breath. "You and I both know it'll never pass, Pan Pan. The Families won't allow it. We have too much," he coughed. "... power."

"What is he talking about, Parkinson?" he asked. What law were they talking about? The law Hermione was trying to pass to give wolves equal rights?

She looked from him to Marcus, her fingers curling into fists. He thought she was about to rush him, instead she went after Marcus. "Don't - you - know - what - I'm - trying - to - do?!"

"Everybody knows! EVEN PEARL!" Marcus shouted, and threw himself on her, fists swinging. Marcus landed a punch to her jaw before Neville could even move. He'd seen her take hits twice as hard, but her body went slack as she fell unconscious, and worse, Marcus went to kick her while she was down. Neville was there in an instant, grabbing Marcus by his extended leg. His fingers crushed the bones in his ankle with a sickening crunch.

"Get your fucking hands off her!" and he heaved with all his might, slamming Marcus into the wall with the full force of his strength. The wolf crumbled to the ground with a whimper and Hal burst through the door just as Neville bent to pick up Parkinson's limp body.

"Pansy it's time to go! - What happened to her!?" and he also rushed over, making the room suddenly feel smaller.

"Marcus hit her." Blood dripped from her mouth but her pulse was steady, so Neville heaved her over his shoulder. "What's happened?"

"A small complication. We gotta get her outta here, pronto!"

"What else is new," Neville found himself growling as he rushed from the room.

The pulsing music of the club hit him the moment he stepped from the private room, and so did Emily Barton.

 _I'm not a rocket scientist_ blared through the club and the crowd went crazy. But Emily stood with her arms crossed and a stern look turned directly on him. "Where's my brother?"

Frustrated, he pushed past her with a shove and ran for the stairs. But a swarm of the Barton's wolves surrounded him.

"Do you think you can come into this place and mess with a Barton?" Emily said, and Neville suddenly realized he wouldn't walk out of here alive if this wolf didn't want him to. A dozen different scenarios rushed through his head, his eyes counting the large number of wolves he would have to fight through, with Parkinson out cold slumped over his shoulder. Super strength didn't mean invincibility, just as with Parkinson… the right hit could take a person out. It just took a lot more of those hits to take him out…

But there were a lot of wolves.

And more, he had to get out of here with Parkinson because _he had to solve this case no matter what._ He took a deep breath and prepared himself to fight, when a tiny blonde woman stepped forward through the crowd of wolves, her stance regal and poised. Her blue eyes seemed to pierce through him, as if he were watching a large predator, like a jungle cat, take interest and size him up. He was irrationally terrified of her, and he hadn't a clue as to why.

"Allow them to leave, Emily." she said in a icy sharp voice he felt as if he recognized. The silver around her neck outed her as a human, yet the wolves backed off immediately, despite Emily Barton giving them an annoyed glance.

If he hadn't been watching her face frown, he'd have missed it.

The bullet of a Muggle gun slid through Emily's left eye and out the back of her head before he even heard the _bang_ that sent the entire club into chaos. The music seemed to get louder, a ridiculous techno beat that pounded his blood. Someone shouted, " _Ms. Emily!"_ and the unknown blonde took out her wand before disappearing into the crowd. And then he realized, it wasn't just a single shot he heard, it was repeating. Neville took Parkinson down to the ground, and his eye went up to the balcony where Marcus Barton appeared, clutching the side of his face.

The limping, battered wolf shouted, "EMILY!" and another round of bangs went off. A bullet slid through Marcus's shoulder and sent him flying backwards.

Hal appeared beside him, "That's David Rowe shooting up the place, what the hell is that wolf thinkin'? C'mon, this way… gotta go gotta go, gotta get her out of her before-"

"Before what?" he shouted, but they were moving through a rushing crowd of bodies and all he could do was hold on tight to Parkinson and follow Hal. ' _Them drum machines ain't got no soul_ ' blasted through the speakers before the music cut off briefly, then came back even louder and he could no longer make out what Hal was saying.

Just great, more shit he didn't understand. He was sick and tired of depending on Parkinson. He wouldn't allow her out of his sight again without answering every single one of his questions. He needed her to explain the conversation that little black room just witnessed, because he certainly didn't understand one bit of it. He needed her to explain why David Rowe was shooting up a wolf club. And that meant he had to keep her safe. It felt as if all the occupants of the club pressed in on him as he beelined for the door, wanting only to get her to a safe place and finally get some real answers.

But then he felt Parkinson move, only a meter or so from the door. Just a small shift, her torso brushing against his shoulder. If he could just get out the front door… show that she was safe… despite the fact that this club was doing everything but going up in flames...

 _BAM!_

A fist came in near his kidney, nearly taking him to the floor. But the angle was all wrong since it came from above him and he just barely managed to keep his balance and attempt to set her down at the same time. But she fought him as he did, and the result was he ended up throwing her to the ground. She rolled into a group of club goers, but came up onto her feet, shook her head to clear it, and looked up at him with menace. The hair tie pulling her hair up came loose and dark waves of hair rained down her head as she moved, launching herself toward him as she pulled a small blade from her sleeve.

"Pansy!" Neville shouted, automatically holding his hands out to stop her. "You're safe! You're okay!"

Her panicked menace turned into frenzied hatred, barrelling into him at the same moment Hal reached him. "WE - HAVE - TO - GO!" his friend shouted at him. Bangs kept going off deeper in the club and the screaming steadily got louder.

The distractions were everywhere and he barely managed to stop Parkinson from stabbing him directly in the heart, his arms came around her, attempting to cage her in, to knock away the blade. But her tiny size gave her an advantage, the even tinier blade slashing upwards in a nearly perfect strike. If he hadn't been trying to save himself, the cut would have ranged his entire torso. Instead he'd been leaning away, and she nicked him from the base of his neck all the way up to his jaw.

Blood spurted from his neck across her face and the words came from her mouth sounded a desperate, hollow thing that hurt his soul. "Don't you ever tell me I'm safe! Don't you! Don't you dare!"

"Pansy!" Hal shouted and pointed to a group of men. Not wolves despite their lack of silver, and all of them well dressed and seemingly not dangerous. But a second look and Neville realized these men were armed and trained. _Incredibly dangerous._ But then, the man with the gun, David Rowe apparently, came into view right behind them, the black metal glinted in the purple light as it raised and pointed right at Parkinson. " _WHERE'S PEARL!?"_ he shouted and Parkinson seemed to realize where she was and what was happening. The little bloodied blade went back into her sleeve and she yelled.

"Go! Run! Neville run!"

Hal managed to shove them through the front door as wolves screamed and rushed around, purple lights flashing with the strobes, the music a harsh beat that hurt his ears. Blood ran down his chest and into his black shirt and they all ran from the club and didn't stop until they were miles away, not until they reached the offices, all of them out of breath.

Hal took two giant gulps of air before he gave them a salute and wandered off. "Fun times. Later boss. Take care, girly."

Neville still gasped for air though, leaning his head against his arm, bracing against the brick wall of his place of work. Blood continued to run down his front as sweat dripped from his brow and all he could think about was that look. The look of Parkinson, rushing at him with dark hair streaming behind her and her little blade out and pointed directly at him.

She asked for him to trust her, and yet pulls that shit? "What. The fuck. Were you _doing?!"_ She looked like a trapped animal, determined to fight her way out no matter what. It was the worst time for her to turn on him...

Next thing he knew, he had a hand around her neck, pressing her into the brick wall. He used his body to pin her, feeling every breath she took press her body closer to his. She gasped in surprise and then stilled, looking up through dark lashes at him. He'd fantasized about this moment many times, imagining as he squeezed so tightly her head would pop off. If he had a pair of cuffs on him, he'd be hauling her ass off to a cell where he'd make sure she stayed _for fucking ever._

His hand squeezed around her throat, and she took sharp breaths through her teeth but remained silent. And then he knew. She'd been _terrified._ Her witchy eyes swam with nightmares, the tension along her shoulders told him of her fear. Fear of what though? He'd only seen her scared of one other thing before, Ellis Vistain.

And even then she'd displayed icy control over her actions…

This was something different, something else he didn't know about, something he wasn't aware of. His head was full of questions and he opened his mouth to demand answers, to make her talk. He wanted to know of David Rowe and what she wouldn't tell him on the train. He wanted to know what happened to her, what happened to turn her into this angry, violent person. He wanted to know about Hal and the men in suits. He wanted to know about the blonde woman, and who the hell this 'Pearl' was. He wanted to sit her down and do whatever it took to get every little piece of information out of her.

But the questions didn't come. Instead he leaned in, and pressed his open mouth over hers.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N** : This chapter got away from me a little bit. I wrote one thing, hated it, rewrote it, hated that too, and then just gave in and let the universe take control. This chapter features **explicit, bloody, **VIOLENT** sex. Torture, violence, and death.** If this isn't your thing, turn back now.

Y'all better go read my girl's new fic **Mending** by LadyCumberBunny and give her all the reviews she deserves!

* * *

Chapter Fourteen  
(When the dam breaks and the walls come crashing down)

He couldn't have picked a better position to kiss her in.

Hand around her throat, pinned against the wall, with little to no space separating them, she originally thought he was going to kill her because she had never seen him so angry before. Never. His jawline was sharp beneath that 7 o'clock shadow as he clenched his teeth, his eyes heated to a warm chocolaty brown she wanted to melt into and never return from. And as those eyes glared death in her direction, the grip around her neck got tighter and tighter as his disguise slowly faded away revealing the Neville Longbottom she'd always known. Kind brown eyes that had never been kind to her and were spaced a little too far apart. Rather flat lips that were a little too wide. And so, so angry.

But instead of more violence, he leaned in and kissed her. Hard. It was everything she'd been looking for. Hot, smoldering close contact right from the start.  
His lips she always thought were too wide fit perfectly over her mouth, and hands that previously had been used to fight her turned sensuous. One hand on her throat, the other slid into her hair, gripping tight, tilting her head back to give him better access. The cut across her cheek didn't stop her from enjoying it and the adrenaline from their run wasn't what kept her blood rushing.

The last few days of forced contact and banter came through in one kiss. He'd been an impenetrable wall, his guard held high up against her all these years of fighting and attempting to outsmart one another. She'd been chipping away at that wall, trying to break it down and see what was behind it. She hadn't been prepared for the dam to completely break through. Instead of getting swept away, she focused on how fucking good it felt to have his body pressed into hers, the feeling of his hand around her throat.

The hot slide of his mouth over hers.

His hand at her throat roamed down with a slow determination, pressing between her breasts, down further against her abdomen making her gasp into his mouth. He traced the sharp curve of her hip and the fingers dug down into her thigh, pulling up that damn skirt slow inch by inch until those fingers were digging into her ass harshly. He made a sound in the back of his throat and she felt the brick dig into her back as he pushed her upwards and forced her legs to wrap around his waist.

Neville couldn't think, he could only do. Once he started kissing her, he couldn't stop. And he didn't want to. There was no more time for fighting, he wanted her splayed out before him. Wanted to be between her legs, and if she couldn't handle it… too bad.

Her eyes opened, and her vision was flooded with intense, deep brown. He watched her as he kissed the hell out of her, watched her as he held her against that damn brick wall and kissed her with a roughness they both desperately wanted to get more of.

She relished it. Even pinned as she was, knowing she could never escape his grip, something she always had problems with since Spain, she wanted more, wanted to be to surrounded by him, filled with him. And he knew it. But she wouldn't be complacent in her own seduction, she wanted more.

Sliding her hand between them, she pulled on his belt, undoing the buckle with her fingers. The action made him press into her harder, but her hand was sliding into his pants and wrapping around his cock with zero hesitation. He grew hard the moment that hand made contact, and he swore, loudly, into her mouth.

"Sorry Longbottom," she teased as she began stroking him with quick, firm movements. "The gods gave you a bigger cock than brains."

"Shut up," he growled. "Don't say a fucking word."

He let go of her hair and held her flush against the brick, one hand still gripping her ass, and his mouth came in again, attaching to her neck through the lace while she continued to pump him. "Are you," she gasped, "-planning on using this thing?"

"What did I say?" His hand came around her hip and fingers roamed beneath her skirt. He found her hot and wet, more than ready for him.

"I've never listened to you before, why start-" two fingers pushed past delicate flesh, slick against her clit. _"-now!"_

"No panties, Parkinson?" he asked against her neck, his breath sending goosebumps across her skin, his fingers sending waves of pleasure through her body. Anyone else, he would have been nervous, would be overthinking every move. But for whatever reason, he felt confident that he knew what she liked. Neither of them was the least bit surprised that they fell back onto banter, not when it worked so well for them.

"Never," she turned her head and pressed her cheek against his jaw, the roughness of his beard biting into her skin, and placed her mouth against his ear. "I _never_ wear panties around you."

The words made his fingers go quicker, "Why am I not surprised?"

Her hand around his cock matched the rhythm of his fingers. "Because you know me... _Oh, God."_

It felt as if they were fighting, except instead of trying to best each other, they were working to give the other one as much pleasure as they possibly could. The rough edge of the brick rubbed roughly against her back, tearing the lace of her shirt, the pain mixing with pleasure until it heightened to a fever pitch. She kept one hand on the thick length of his erection but her other hand came up to his shoulder, and years of fantasy collided with reality.

And reality was far, _far_ better.

His fingers between her legs, brick at her back, his mouth on her neck, her fingers digging into his shoulder, her head crashed back into the wall behind her as she came. Screaming. Hard.

"More," he said as he began dragging them away from the wall and kissing her at the same time. He almost regretted it though, when her hand fell away from his pants. But he needed her in a place they wouldn't be interrupted, somewhere he could take his time and get her completely out of his system. "I want more."

"Your office," she gasped between kisses. They stumbled through the front door of the offices, grabbing onto each other desperately as they went. Cameras were pointed at them the moment they hit that brick wall, but he didn't care.

"It's monitored," he shoved her into the elevator, not looking away as he hit the button for the floor with the Floo's, and then retook her mouth in the most searing kiss of the night.

"What about -" she grabbed onto the neck of his shirt, ripping it apart. "-the elevator?"

"Also monitored," he gripped her hair tightly again and brought her mouth back to his. "Now stop talking."

They half kissed, half dragged their way out of the elevator once the doors chimed open, and she let him do it. Didn't bother to check out her surroundings because even with his tongue down her throat and his hands tearing at her lace shirt, she trusted him to keep them safe.

The smell of soot and burnt wood filled her nose as he pushed her against the brick walls of the hearth, a jar broke at her feet, and he cried out, "58 Woolsey Way!" as he wrapped his arms around her. They spun and fireplaces zoomed by, yet she felt his hands hold her tight against him until he stepped them out into a darkened room and they crashed into the nearest piece of furniture. She felt books dig into her back, glass shattered around them, and a shelf crashed to the ground. But even in the dim light, she could tell he didn't care one bit about making a mess… and she knew then this would be exactly the kind of sex she needed. Rough. Hard. Uncontrollable.

She was more than ready. With a grin, she finished Neville's shirt off by ripping it down the front and savoring the image of his bare chest, no hair covered the skin there, but even in the darkness, she could make out the scars. He was all marked up, just like her.

He responded in kind by pulling at her lace, hearing it tear with little effort, his fingers spread over her bare stomach and the next moment he pushed upwards as he leaned in and pressed hot, wet kisses between her breasts. Tearing the scraps of shirt from his shoulders, she dug her fingers there, her favorite place, pushing her chest further into his mouth, wanting more contact.

His fingers continued upward, pushing underneath her bra and digging into the underside of her breasts, his rough hands hard on her flesh and his mouth still between her breasts which he pumped up and together as if he were feasting on her. He stepped into her, wanting full body contact, and they tipped over another piece of furniture. She heard quills fall over, paper flutter to the ground, wood hitting the wall and then he splayed her out over the hard surface of a desk, his fingers digging into her torso as pushed her legs apart.

"Take it off," she hissed at him, moving a hand to the front of his pants.

"No. Talking." He grabbed her hand and slammed it above her head, pushing her other arm up to join it. He used that hand to pin her wrists down, then ripped her leather bra with the other hand, lifting her body up with the sheer force of it, tearing away the shredded pieces and throwing them to the ground with little care.

His eyes dipped down, his body going taut as he watched the rise and fall of two perfect breasts with rose-colored nipples. He couldn't wait, leaning in and taking the closest one in his mouth, he sucked on the nipple as he held her down and listened to her demands for more.

Demands, because Pansy Parkinson didn't ask. She commanded or she took, but right now she was at his mercy and he rather liked her like that. So he took his time. Just like everything else, she liked it rough, and he gave her just that. Sucking hard until he went down further, taking the sensitive underside of her breast into his mouth and dragging his teeth into the soft flesh there. She bucked against his hold, "Hurry. Now."

"Shut. Up." He said against her skin and he felt her tremble.

Finally, he leaned back and he watched her as he freed himself from his pants before leaning forward again. His weight wasn't gentle, and she didn't want it to be. He was still bleeding, from the cut she'd given him back at Club Dread, and as their bodies pressed together she could feel the hot stickiness of it against her chest and neck. She strained against his hold, pushing herself up against him, and he closed the remainder of the gap, pushing up her leather skirt with violent force. Her legs spread even further, and she felt the head of cock push against her. Hard male pressed against wet flesh.

Their breathing synced, eyes locked, and he pushed into her with a slowness that ached.

She spent exactly ten seconds getting used to the sheer size of him. Then she said, "Harder."

"You couldn't handle that," his hold on her wrists pressed in.

"Try me," and she leaned up and bit into his jawline. "Don't hold back, I can take it."

He didn't hesitate, he rocked back without letting up his hold on her wrists and when he rocked forward again, it was with the full brunt of his strength. He did it again, and a third time and the desk beneath them gave out, crumbling beneath their bodies.

They crashed to the floor and both adjusted to the new position, devolving into a rough, uncontrollable pace of two people fucking each other as hard as they could, both of them screaming out with every move. She came for the second time that night, squeezing him tightly as she nearly sobbed in pleasure.

There was no awkwardness, no clumsy indecision. He slowed his pace just enough for her to come down from her high and she moved against him in a way he understood without having to think about, releasing her arms and pulling them both up until he came crashing down onto his nearby couch, both of them damp with sweat.

She pushed his pants further down his legs as he grabbed onto her skirt with both hands, tearing the small piece of clothing into two pieces. Then she straddled him and dug her freed hands into his shoulders, pushing her entire body against his, naked except for her boots and leather sleeves full of blades.  
It lit his skin on fire, her sliding against his hard body, finding the angle, and then settling herself again over the head of his penis. She didn't wait, sliding down his length with possession, her fingers clenching onto his shoulders so tightly he knew it would bruise.

His hands came to her hips and he watched her lean forward. He went to meet her, expecting a kiss, but instead, she put her mouth on his jaw and began moving on him as she kissed down his neck, down his shoulder.

And then - " _Fuck_!" She bit into, and sucked, on the scar she gave him. It felt hot and cold at the same time, and the sensation zinged through his entire body, making him buck against her. She cried out and he decided he was going to make her make that exact sound as many times as he could. His fingers dug into her hips even harder, and he watched her bounce up and down on his lap, feeling the couch move backward with every move. She was using him for her own pleasure, riding him with reckless abandon, and it took everything he had not to finish right then.

Pansy felt him growing inside her, becoming harder, but she wasn't anywhere near finished. She moved one hand from her shoulder, smearing his blood from his cut, up his neck and into his hair, uncaring of how messy it was or how her fingers had dug into his wound. "Not yet," she panted. "Not yet, Neville."

He groaned in both pleasure and pain, "Then you better… stop squeezing me… like that…" and his hands gripped her hips with bruising strength, making her move faster, harder.

Her head leaned back and her fingers jerked in his hair as she came undone around him, her inner muscles squeezing him so blindingly tight it felt as if she were ripping off his cock. The pain of it pushed him over with her, and he buried his head in her neck as she screamed out.

She suddenly seemed smaller, more delicate, as she went limp in his arms, her breasts pressing against his chest, the long strands of her dark hair falling against his skin. Panting, he wrapped an arm around her back, and pushed one hand into her hair, gripping the back of her neck. "Look at me."

Indigo colored eyes blinked open and peered at him through dark lashes. This had been building up for years, he realized as he looked at the mark on her upper lip, where he'd bitten too hard. Added to the cut on her cheek and the stubble burn on her chin, she looked pleased only in the way Pansy Parkinson would be. But she didn't stay that way. Once she caught her breath she told him in a husky voice, "More."

He nodded, out of breath, and kicked off his boots without looking away. His hands roamed down her bare back, coming to rest on her ass where he pressed in and stood, keeping her close, bodies pressed together. Without turning on the light, he walked them up the stairs, taking her mouth once again with his. Her bloodied hand came out and grasped at the wall as they moved, knocking frames off as she tried to dominate the kiss. The pleasure turned exquisite, her nerves feeling raw, and he took them through an open doorway, closing it behind them with his foot before he deposited them on a bed. Cocooned in darkness and laying on a blanket so soft, she could only see his face as he came in close, his thick arms coming down on either side of her head.

"More," she repeated.

"More," he agreed.

oOo

Not for the first time, she cut into his skin with a tiny, tiny blade he thought was once Pansy's. In fact, he was sure of it. The pain made him go away. But when he came back, he could recall Pansy giving it to a tiny Posy, the little wolf with her curly blonde hair and big baby blue eyes had taken the dagger and visibly gulped.

But she'd done what Pansy had asked of her that day, slipped the dagger into a hidden pocket and promised to keep it with her at all times.

That must have been at least five years ago - "Fuck you!" He screamed.

Body tensing as Pearl Parkinson carved more words into his skin, her smile cruel and sadistic. Her manner calm and relaxed. She could have been knitting instead of carving him up like a Christmas ham, but that was Pearl Parkinson. There was none crueler.

"What would Eleanor think of such foul language coming from her son, Theodore?"

"I wouldn't know," he sobbed. "She died so long ago…" He barely remembered his mother, she died when he was a little boy.

He went away again. It was for the best. Theo hoped he'd be dead long before Pansy found him because he didn't want her to see him like this. The last few months had been the longest he stayed clean all these years, and he remembered the promise he made to Pansy, the witch he loved.

That'd he stay like that.

But he couldn't keep that promise anymore, not now. Not when Pearl had taken a small piece of Glimmer from her necklace, the crystal a deep, deep blue, and shoved it into his skin without even cutting it first.

The deeper the color, the better the high.

The longer it would last.

The more it would consume. One good thing came from his years of drug abuse though, Glimmer couldn't be used to compel him. Like Jac had done to Pansy. Because when he forced Glimmer into her skin, he found the power to control her. All because Pearl sent him after her daughter.

"Pay attention, Theodore," Pearl whispered in his ear. "You have to give my darling girl a message."

"No, I won't. I won't. _Ahhh_!" Blood he couldn't afford to lose burst from the new cut and ran down his side, soaking into his bed. Theo looked up at his skylight and watched the dark of night slowly turn into dawn, his vision going in and out.

Another cut jarred him awake. "You will tell her, tell her that I saw her at the train station. I saw her in Diagon Alley. I saw her with that Auror. Tell her to back off now, before I decide to take action."

"I won't. I won't. I won't… She's going to beat you. She's going to kill you and take Posy far, far away…"

He looked up to the woman he hated more than he hated himself, the woman that ruined everything for him.

Her smile faded and her blade slid across his belly. It would take hours and hours for him to bleed out there. A slow, painful death. "Not if I kill her first."

oOo

Fear sank in her stomach when Susan Bones realized what she was reading on her phone.

A text message from Connor O'Donnell, her old trainer, saying that a drugged up wolf went and shot a bunch of other wolves at Club Dread. That news in itself wasn't shocking.

But Club Dread is where Nev had gone undercover with the Parkinson girl the night before, and she hadn't heard a peep from him since.

 _'Connor, that's where Nev was last night. I'm_ Flooing _to his house now. Meet me?'_

She sent the message back and didn't wait for a response, taking only a quick second to check in on the battered Annie Stokes before she went to the hearth and dropped a whole jar of Floo powder into the soot-covered brick. She stepped out into Neville's living room and immediately drew her wand. Beyond the windows, everything looked normal. The grey morning light showed the surrounding trees that provided the small house with privacy. It was the inside that had her worried.

It appeared the entire place had been ransacked, the bookshelf had been knocked over… its contents broke and spilled across the hardwood floor without a care. The desk in the corner had crumbled into pieces as if someone had been thrown into it. The couch had been shoved up in front of the doorway that led to the kitchen…

And there was blood over everything.

She took a steady breath in and stepped forward, examining every corner for an enemy and preparing herself for what she might find. Peering over the couch, she realized the kitchen was completely clean and untouched by the destruction of the living room. She turned towards the stairs up and resisted the urge to cry out. All the picture frames had been knocked off the walls, and a smeared handprint of dried blood told her that someone had been dragged upstairs.

"Damn it, Nev. You better be okay."

Behind her, the Floo came to life and Connor stepped through, his wand already out. He took a look around, the dark skin around his mouth pulled tautly.

"Susie, what happened here?" He whispered.

She gestured to the bloody handprint and began to climb the stairs. The guest room door was opened to her right and showed a made up bed, nothing out of place. The second door to her right showed Nev's study, in order, untouched. Connor pulled ahead and pointed to Neville's bedroom door.

Another bloody handprint. Connor counted silently at her, hand hovering over the knob. _Three… two… one…_

They burst through, wands pointed out.

To see a very nude Neville laying on the floor next to a mostly nude Pansy Parkinson, both covered in blood. Around them lay the debris of Nev's bedroom. The mattress was off center. Blankets and pillows were thrown all over the room. The contents of Neville's dresser had been pushed to the ground. It was much the same as downstairs.

Except now Susan realized… Neville's house hadn't been ransacked, it had been destroyed by rowdy sexual activity. She was almost jealous.

The naked pair responded at the same time, jumping directly up, Neville with his wand pointed at her and Connor. Pansy's arms crossed, pulling blades from the leather sleeves that seemed to be tied around her shoulders. It was the only piece of clothing she wore.

Susan felt her eyes go wide and her first response was to look away from Pansy's bare chest, but her eyes went to Neville's crotch and she burst into laughter, covering her face.

Unable to control her giggles, she said, "Do - you - have - any - idea - how - worried - I - was?!"

Beside her, Connor shook his head. "I'm outta here, I got shit to do LB. You were supposed to message Bobs when you finished up last night."

"He was busy," Pansy said, rising from her defensive position with grace. Her blades went back into her sleeves and she put her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow at Connor as if daring him.

"All right," Neville stepped in front of Pansy and blocked Susan's view and she had to look away because his behind was suddenly very visible. A fresh wave of laughter swept over her. "Thank you for checking up on me, sorry, just get out of here, and _stop laughing_ won't you Susan?"

"Do you -" she laughed so hard she started snorting, "Do you require medical help?"

oOo

"Fucking hell woman, no. Get out of here!" Longbottom growled out and looked down at Pansy as if it were her fault.

Which it most certainly wasn't her fault that his friend was laughing hysterically at the mere sight of his goodies. Pansy couldn't resist. While he watched her, she made a show of looking down and biting on her lip. "It does look different in daylight."

His eyes narrowed even further and he stepped away, not willing to be her shield any longer. He grabbed the crumbled up sheet from the bed and wrapped it around his waist. Oh, the things they had done on that sheet.

"That cut on your neck looks bad though," Susan managed to say without laughing.

"I can bandage him up," Pansy told her. "Don't worry Healer Susan, it's just a flesh wound."

"How do you know?"

"Because I gave it to him," she smirked.

Susan's eyes narrowed, the laughter finally fading. "You did that to his neck?"

"He liked it too," she told her, purposely making her voice sound breathy. "He kissed me right after."

Susan turned to Longbottom with surprise, who just shrugged. "I think we can handle it from here."

The healer shook her head, and Pansy knew she wasn't sure what to say to her. For some reason, Pansy didn't get along well with other women. But right before Susan left, the healer said, "By the way, your house looks like a crime scene."

Pansy had the pleasure of watching Longbottom's face turn a bright shade of red. She knew he would need a moment to process, though. Because in their sexually charged bubble, nothing had been awkward… there hadn't been any pressure to reveal secrets or dance around each other as they had. It had simply been about giving one another as much pleasure as possible. But that bubble popped the moment Healer Susan and her friend had burst through the bedroom door.

She wanted to wait, to see what he would do, to make him squirm…

Instead, she stepped forward and brought a finger to the very tip of his wound. "Why don't you get a healer's kit and I'll patch this up for you… Neville."

He nodded and said, "I'll be right back."

She exhaled the moment he walked from the room and then turned for what she assumed was the bathroom. She was right.

Her reflection in the mirror over the sink showed a woman that had been thoroughly sexed. Her hair looked rumpled, and she could almost feel Longbottom's long fingers running through the strands, something he'd done over and over again throughout the night. A large cut on her cheek gave way to stubble burn marked her chin and neck, a neck that had dark bruises in the shape of fingerprints around it. A neck Neville Longbottom had sucked deeply on as he'd pumped his cock in and out of her for hours.

She softest of moans left her lips as she brought up fingers to the tender skin.

And he appeared behind her with the healer's kit and what looked like an ice pack. He'd put on a pair of jeans, replacing the sheet, but his chest was still bare. And she preferred it that way. His eyes met hers in the mirror and then dropped to the neck she'd just been studying.

Shame passed over his face before he looked away, gently turning her and bringing a wet towel to the cut on her cheek. She wasn't an idiot, she knew sex changed things between people. But she never expected him to be ashamed. Now she stood before him, naked except for her sleeves, covered in his blood, marked by him… and he was ashamed? It caused a nasty roll of anger in her stomach and she sucked in a harsh breath.

"I guess I got what I wanted," she sneered at him. "'Sweaty, nasty, regret it in the morning sex'."

His eyes turned questioning. "You think I regret it?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"I see it your face."

Longbottom finished wiping her cheek with a sigh. "I don't regret it," and he leaned against the counter and looked up, taking a deep breath. She wanted to believe it, but that look of shame seemed imprinted in her brain. Taking the towel from the towel rack, she wetted it and stood between his legs, began wiping the blood from his chest with gentle movements. She started from the lowest blood stain and worked up, dabbing gently then rinsing the towel in the sink as needed. While she worked, he reached over and grabbed a gel ice pack he'd brought up. He flattened it gently against her cheek, cradling it as he watched her work. The whole situation felt oddly intimate to her, comfortably silent. Two people taking care of each other.

She joked with him only the other day that dates should be dinner and stargazing, but she would laugh in the face of any man who tried to take her out for a romantic night of candlelit dinners and looking at the stars. But patching each other up after a night of interrogating wolves, surviving a gunfight, and unbelievable sex? Him cradling an ice pack against her swollen cheek while she wiped the blood off his naked chest? Now that was her idea of quality time together. "What do you regret?"

He grabbed at her arm, and she thought he wanted her to stop, began to pull away feeling unwanted and embarrassed. Idiot. She was an idiot! One that enjoyed herself far too much last night, and now had the misfortune of realizing it was one-sided. Except his grip tightened before she could actually get away and he moved her to the side slightly, turning her gaze to the mirror as her hips came into view. More bruises, shaped like hands.

She moaned again, this one as involuntary as the last. Heat flushed upwards, seemingly starting from those bruises, as she remembered the way she rode him on the couch. The way his hands had dug into her hips, making her move faster.

"You're ashamed of what we did. But I'm not, I'm not ashamed of my sexuality," she spat at him. How many times did she and Theo have this very fight? Pansy didn't want gentle. She didn't want soft and tender, because in Spain Jac had done just that and claimed it was love.

What she wanted was something _real_. And apparently, that was just another change Theo couldn't deal with.

"You're not seeing. Look at what I did to you," he growled when she went to fight his hold. He slid his other hand down her thigh and she bent her knee at hus gentle nudging, looking down at the bruises around her thighs. This time she just barely kept the moan in. They'd gone from the bed to the dresser, and he'd held her up by the thighs as the hard piece of furniture dug into her back.

She opened her mouth to tell him off when a whisper of understanding flitted across her mind, her gaze on that bruise. _Look at what I did to you,_ he said. Look at what Neville Longbottom, a man that would never hurt a woman, did to her.

Pansy's hand holding the wet towel clenched and unclenched before she continued to clean the blood off his skin. She took her fill of each of his scars. The small burn marks on his left side. A wide gash on his right. Crisscrossed lines over his chest. And of course her own personal addition. The three-inch-long scar along his right shoulder. A scar she'd sucked while she'd ridden him to completion.

She bit down on her lip before she got distracted by her own thoughts, and rewetted the towel. "I told you I could handle it," she said in a soft whisper.

The thin line she cut on his neck went all the way from his collarbone to the tip of his jaw, and like she told Healer Susan, it was only a flesh wound. She finished cleaning the blood from his skin, leaving only the thin cut. She threw the bloodied towel into the sink and grabbed antibiotic cream from the kit, smearing some on her finger and gently rubbing it into the wound. He continued to hold the ice pack against her cheek.

"Would you like me to apologize?" she finally said, referring to the cut, breaking the silence. Cream on, she grabbed a couple of bandages and medical tape, fitting it over his collarbone.

"No," he said in a low voice. "I want you to explain why it happened."

She kept her eyes on the tape as she fitted it over the bandage. "You know about my scars."

"I have unconfirmed guesses." She went to get another bandage, placed it against his neck. "Leave it," he continued.

"You want all my secrets? Can't I keep any to myself?" she asked in a whisper, dropping the second bandage.

"No, I want them. I want all of them." He said in the voice she'd only heard him use while they'd been in bed.

A voice that seemed only for her.

Her lip trembled against the ice pack and she remembered that day, at her villa in Tuscany. One of her father's records was playing, Tory and Theo were in the kitchen making dinner and filling the house with laughter, and she and Draco sat on the patio overlooking a field of wildflowers and watching the sunset. They all knew Tory was sick, but that day had felt normal, felt the same as any other day. A rare day that she and Theo had gotten along and one of the last they were all together. But as that sunset, she saw the flicker of fear in Draco's eyes and asked him about it.

He told her, 'Tory is the only person who ever wanted to learn my secrets, not to hurt me with them or punish me for them. But because she wanted to love me better.' She decided right then and there, she would never fall in love again, because no man would ever want to learn her secrets for the reason Tory wanted to learn about Draco's. And she could see then what Tory's death would do to Draco, why would she ever fall into the same trap? Purposely reveal her vulnerabilities?

But before she could respond to Longbottom, he blew out a harsh breath and turned their positions around so she was the one pressed against the counter, with him standing between her legs, the gel pack tossed on the counter without a thought. "Because you're the one that asked me to trust you yet you keep giving me the runaround and I know you like it when I chase you Pansy Parkinson, but I don't know that I can keep doing it."

His hands came up and tugged the strings at her sleeves, the thread rubbed against the leather as he pulled until it came free and the sleeve slid down her arm. He tugged the leather from her arm, revealing tiny blades and throwing stars strapped in beneath with simple velcro. He undid each strap with slow, deliberate consideration setting each of her weapons on the counter with care. Then he repeated the process on her other arm. She took a deep, deep breath. Why did this man have such a way about him that made certain things so much sexier than they were? Putting her picture up on a dart board, leaning in to lite her cigarette, disarming her of her blades? If any other man dared do the same, she would have castrated them.

Fuck. She did trust him. Telling him her secrets would allow him to trust her in return if only she could muster up the courage. "Can I have one of your shirts?" she asked softly. She couldn't talk about Jac, or the after effects of what he did to her, while she was naked.

He didn't hesitate, pulling one of the button ups he wore to work from a closet she hadn't noticed and helped her into it as if it were a coat. She pulled her hair from beneath the soft white cotton as he slowly did up the buttons. Just another moment made sexy by him.

"I don't handle waking up in strange places very well."

Understanding. "And then you came to over my shoulder," he said.

"And I was afraid," she admitted. "I'm usually afraid when I wake up."

"Telling you that you're safe though… that's never gotten me cut up before."

"You can't. Just don't say that to me," she said.

"Someone promised that to you once, did they?"

Theo did. Over and over.

She opened her mouth, maybe to give him a hard time. Maybe to tease him some. Maybe it was to tell him off, but she didn't do any of that.

Instead, Pansy told him everything. About Jac. About what he did to her, the rape, the Glimmer, the cologne. And how he made her into a killer and at the same time killed the girl Pansy was and how Theo had left her because of it. Because she had changed too much and he couldn't love the new her.

"When it became obvious to my mother that I wasn't going to marry Theodore, she decided to... she took it out on him. I loved him. I think she blamed him for what happened to me. Maybe. She got him addicted to Glim, and he stayed like that for six years."

"Six years? How did he survive that long while taking Glim? That shit destroys you."

"I know. I had the pleasure of watching it happen, on and off he went. All because I refused to marry him. He blamed me, and he was right to. My mother did that to him because of me. She got her Glim from David Rowe, then she became a dealer, a powerful one… so powerful Ellis Vistain would do anything to have her allegiance."

"Allegiance?"

"The nonwolf dealers usually choose a family to give their allegiance to. Except... not my mother. But she's the best and she plays all the wolf families against each other until they're eating out of her hand."

"This is how you know so much about the wolves?"

"Not exactly," she said slowly.

"I see we're back to vague answers."

"It's part of the reason I know so much about the wolves," she admitted not sure that Posy was a secret she was willing to reveal. One, because Posy had only ever been used against her and two because she was going to have to some majorly illegal activity to get her back safely.

"So you're afraid of your mother? Let me guess, her name is Pearl?"

"Longbottom?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't ever let her know how I feel about you." And she watched an array of emotions cross his face, confusion and surprise the most prominent.

Finally, he said, "Exactly how powerful is this witch?"

Her lips parted and she heard her phone ringing from downstairs.

oOo

She rushed downstairs, amazed at the damage her and Longbottom had done to his house. The ringing continued and she pushed papers and books and quills away to find the shredded remains of her skirt. In the little pocket on the back, she pulled her phone out. Only two people had her phone number. The name on the screen flashed Theo and she wondered if the man knew she'd been speaking of him.

"Theo?" she answered.

"Not exactly, darling." A pristine chime of a voice rolled into her ear and she knew, she knew, something was terribly wrong. She shot a text message to Draco and told him to get to Theo's immediately.

"My Theo, how your voice has changed." Longbottom knelt down beside her. Even he knew something was wrong.

"Your dear mother didn't want to let you know the terrible news, but I thought you ought to know…" Daphne Greengrass paused for effect. But Pansy could be patient when she wanted to, she made herself silent and still, using Longbottom's eyes as her anchor.

A full minute passed. "Hmmphh, well, you might be able to save him in time if you can get there… if not well… it's nice to think he won't be suffering anymore, isn't it?"

She turned the phone off and threw it to the ground.

"What? What's happened?"

 _Foosh_. All the air left her lungs and the serene bit of calmness she'd been under since she began telling Longbottom all of her secrets disappeared with a snap. The rage rushed back like the ocean tide and swept her away. She didn't answer him and she didn't remember leaving, didn't remember pulling her wand, where her wand even was, but he followed her regardless, grabbing onto her arm when she Apparated from his front door.

She appeared in front of Theo's building, pushing her weapons underneath the baggy sleeves of Longbottom's shirt.

"Parkinson, stop." He pulled her to the side when she would have gone through the front door. "Explain what's happening."

"No time," she shrugged off his hand and climbed up the three steps to the front doors of the building. Through the glass window, she could see zip ties holding the doors together. "Neville."

"Explain. Now."

"Door. Now. There's no time."

"Work and talk," and he pulled the door from the hinge.

"Ask me your first question again. From our game," she said as she flew past the elevator and banged the stairwell door open.

It took all his energy just to keep up. "What? Who hired you for the fern job?"

"You remember Daphne Greengrass? Nowadays she's a gold digging, husband murdering cunt who sets up her old school friends to get arrested."

"How do you know she set you up?"

"Because her personal assistant in the one who notified you that I was back in town. I saw the file on your desk."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because once we solved your case I planned to visit her myself and choke her with her own necklace."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because she just called me from Theo's cell phone," and she made herself stop in front of Theo's door, looking for traps with a steady breath.

"Is there another way in?"

"Skylight," she stepped back. "Can you open it?"

"Why wouldn't I be able to?"

"Reinforced steel door, triple deadlock."

"What the hell is he afraid of?" he asked her, grabbing the handle and shoving up against the door with his shoulder. There was a great groan of force as the door ripped from the wall and fell inwards. She heard the sound of a string being plucked and the whirl of a blade flying through the air as she peered into a dark room, lit only by the soft light of the rising sun.

And a low moan of pain came from inside.

"Theo," she went to step inside but felt Longbottom's hand wrap around her arm.

"Could be a trap," he whispered.

She didn't know how to say the trap had already sprung because she couldn't admit it to herself. Instead, she pulled from his grip and walked into the small room, kneeling down beside Theo's still form, the bed beneath him soaked in cold blood.

His foggy eyes blinked open and peered at her from his bed, his arms crossed behind his head as if he'd been sleeping. "Sorry. Didn't want you to see me like this. Not your fault."

Pansy made herself focus, made herself take a deep breath, and then pushed his shirt aside to see what had been written onto his skin. But it wasn't a shirt, it was blood. A dark layer of wet blood that soaked into her fingers as she tried to wipe it away, only for it to be replaced by the new wound, right above his heart, from the blade Pansy had given to Posy when she was but a little wolf. The cuts in his chest wrote out a message. _'Did you think he was safe?'_ seemed brighter because his skin was paler than usual.

Strange how her body felt like her own, same hands, same eyes, same heart pumping blood, but she knew she would never be the same again. "I'm sorry," she told him. "My fault. All mine."

She continued to use her hands to push blood from his chest, revealing more words that had been carved into his skin with a small blade, if she guessed right. Probably the one in his chest.

' _I saw you_ ' was written over and over again, on his left shoulder, down his right side, above the hips.

"I'm sorry Theo," and she laid down beside him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Love you."

"Mmm. Warm."

And she felt him go still beside her.

* * *

I _am now on_ _Tumblr as ladyylla!_


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** Hello! Big thanks to all the lovelies who reviewed my last chapter and all who have favorited my story! I hope the smut was good. This is your ****VIOLENCE**** and ****ANGST**** warning for this chapter. I can't help myself.

Make sure you go and support my girl **LadyCumberBunny** who is writing a Neville/Pansy fic called **Mending!**

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 **Chapter Fifteen**

(Where everyone is yelling a lot!)

If there was one thing Bobbi O'Donnell knew how to do, it was yell. And yell. And yell some more. Neville let her, because he knew Bobbi's yelling came from a place of love and concern, and he mindlessly spun his golden badge between his fingers. The job was only supposed to be a few years, a short commitment to help Harry and Ron gather up the remaining Death Eaters after the war. To help rebuild Hogwarts and The Ministry.

The day he decided to make a career out of it, the guys had taken him down to the corner and they'd gotten spit face drunk. He'd met his new partner Jory and then spent the next decade chasing down Pansy Parkinson. He couldn't remember ever seeing her cry. Haughty laughs, sarcastic comebacks, mean sneers. He'd seen those too many times to count.

But he hadn't ever witnessed her crying before. Instead he learned that she just got this horrible look on her face, as if she'd never be happy again. It reminded him of the look on Abigail Jory's mother's face when he broke the news that the Aurors had found her daughter's body. Which just made him angry all over again.

He'd spent the last few months making promises he was beginning to think he couldn't keep.

Promises to distraught mothers that he would bring their daughter's killer to justice.

It was finding Abigail Jory that pushed his partner over. Maybe it was the familiar name when there was no relation, but Jory just didn't come to work the day after that. Neville found him at his place, neck deep in fresh Glimmer wounds.

A week later he disappeared and Neville hadn't heard from him since, he could be dead for all he knew.

And his case still wasn't solved. He blamed himself. It would be easy to blame Parkinson for the distraction, but he was the one that ran off after her. Chasing her like always, to The Conservatory, through Diagon Alley. He was the one that followed her to the club.

He was the one that spent all night with her in bed.

" _Are you even paying attention to me?!"_ Bobbi shouted at him.

He nodded absently, and tried to push the images from that morning out of his head. Parkinson, drenched in blood, wearing his own shirt and nothing else. Theodore Nott, dead at her feet. Murdered. Pats dragging Parkinson out of the room and slapping cuffs on her wrists.

And she let them. She let a Pat put a pair of cuffs on her and take her away without a fight, an event far more disturbing to his senses than anything else.

More, he couldn't get her words out of his head. ' _Don't ever let her know how I feel about you'_. Her. The mother. Pearl Parkinson.

Apparently, he'd seen the result of that particular outcome. Because Theodore Nott died from massive blood loss, from 84 small cuts across his upper body, all of them designed not to deliver death, but to allow Nott to bleed out slowly - and suffer. Most of the cuts made up words which he knew were meant for Pansy. ' _I saw you'_ and ' _Did you think he was safe?'_ made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. What did that mean?

He couldn't help but wonder if that blonde witch from Club Dread was capable of doing such a thing? How did she overpower Nott in the first place?

The witch _in front_ of him certainly could though. "I swear to all that is holy I'm going to flay you alive, Longbottom!" Bobbi grabbed the collar of the spare shirt he'd had in his office and jerked him forward. "You slept with her. It's on camera. How can I trust your judgement now?"

"I was with her all night, Bobs. She didn't kill Nott."

But it didn't seem to matter at the moment. If Neville didn't know for sure that Pansy hadn't done it, he himself would have locked her up just based on the crime scene alone. "She's covered in the man's blood. Her own dagger is in the man's heart. She admitted that it was her weapon in front of a dozen Pats. Explain to me how I'm supposed to just accept your saying that it wasn't her?"

"It's the truth, Bobs. Whether you want to accept it or not." Bobbi often did a huff when she was frustrated, but it also let Neville know she was listening to his words. "As you've already pointed out, you have us on camera. You know we were undercover last night. Connor and Susan can both testify we were at my place this morning."

"Yet you called us in over an hour after Connor saw you."

"Look at this," he pushed the picture of Nott's dead body at her. "You think this can be done in an hour?"

"Parkinson-"

"Do you think I would stand by and let her do this?" Neville pushed. That was the real reason he wanted to yell back at Bobbi. He would never allow anyone, even Pansy, to manipulate him into just standing by and allowing someone to be hurt as Nott had been. Not even to his worst enemy.

Pansy was deadly. Absolutely. And capable of great violence. He had the proof in his hands, from the file he asked Les to put together. A file bigger than even he thought it would be. The picture of a Jacques Moreau with Parkinson's favorite dagger sticking from his chest had been on top and once that might have made Neville sick with anger at her. Sick at the violence of it.

But when he skimmed through the file after the Pats dragged him and Pansy back to the offices, he realized it just made him bloodthirsty instead. He wished there was more damage done to the man besides the obvious, gaping hole where his heart should've been. He wished Pansy had taken her time and ripped the man into tiny shreds instead of giving him a quick death.

' _How did you get away from him?'_ he'd asked earlier that morning before the phone call that ripped her away.

' _I made him believe I was willing, he untied me on the fifth day. I pretended to enjoy his touch and when he left me alone for a minute, I went for the dagger my father had given me before I left.'_

Again, Bobbi jerked him from his thoughts. "I don't know, if you had asked me yesterday, I would have said you would never sleep with Pansy Parkinson if your life depended on it." Bobbi crossed her arms and leaned against the desk in front of him, her tone challenging. That she would imply he would stand idly by allow Parkinson to torture someone... "Did your life depend on it?"

"Don't insult me, Bobbi." He should have told her who really did it. This Pearl Parkinson, drug dealer and murderer, seemed to be one of the very few people around that actually scared Pansy. She'd controlled the wolves at Club Dread, even stopping Emily Barton from pursuing him. If she was supplying Glim, that was his connection to the murders of his case. He should have been dragging her ass down to his office and questioning her. But for some reason, he couldn't.

Because Pansy was terrified of her.

She had more secrets, and if they hadn't been interrupted earlier Neville was positive he would have learned what they were because, turns out, the key to Pansy's trust was for him to lay his hands on her. She only trusted those that could prove they could take her on. Too bad he hated himself for it.

He threw Pansy's file at Bobbi and picked up the picture of Nott again. "This. This took time. Someone cut him up with slowness and precision that couldn't be rushed. Even Parkinson couldn't have done that in an hour's time. And Bobbi, I was with her all night and trust me, there was no sleeping involved."

Bobbi opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted when Ron came into the room. "No way is she talking. That one is cool as a cucumber and I don't like cucumbers."

"She'll talk to me." he told Ron, who shrugged.

"And you're the one person who can't question her." Bobbi insisted.

His muscles hadn't ached at all this morning. But the moment he stood, the tension settled across his shoulders and back as if it never went away. He grabbed the file and stood, towering over Bobbi. "I'm the only one who can. She still has answers that pertain to my case."

He pushed past Ron without another word, ignoring Bobbi's protests, and walked down the hallway to the interrogation rooms as he pinned his badge to his jeans. There were still blood stains on them. He stepped into the room that allowed him to observe Pansy, a two way mirror between them, and thought about exactly which questions he should ask first. He felt more than heard Bobbi enter the room behind him, Ron right after her.

She paced back and forth behind the desk, arms crossed defensively and scowl across her face and he hadn't expected anything less. She still wore his shirt, white except for the dried blood stains. It hit just above her knees. It did nothing to mask the vein of rage beneath her skin. She wanted blood. Anyone else wouldn't be able to tell, wouldn't be able to see past the facade of calm she could muster up at a moment's notice. He'd never known anyone who could lie better with their body than she, but he saw through her lies.

And now he could see her clearly.

She stopped in front of the mirror and faced it, fists curling. She could have been looking at him, if he didn't know better. "I can feel you watching me."

She brought her fist out and hit the glass, it shattered outwards like a web and he felt his heart hitch. " _Longbottom._ " Her voice cracked. "You need to drop this case."

There it is. He vividly remember their conversation on the train. ' _No idiot. I don't want to get you killed.'_ Had that been her way of telling that she cared for him? Cared enough to stop him from getting in the way of her mother, so he wouldn't end up like Nott?

Too fucking bad. He was done with people telling him not to get involved, to back off, to give up. Whatever it took, he was willing to pay the price.

"Neville," Bobbi started from behind him.

"Give me a minute." He marched past Bobbi for the second time, but she wasn't having any more if it. Her hand came out and wrapped around his arm with a different kind of strength than Pansy.

" _Neville,_ " her voice softened. "What's happened to you? Why are you angry all the time? She's in your head! She's alienated you from your friends. Why are you covering for her?"

"A minute, please Bobbi." He asked calmly, not knowing how to explain it wasn't Parkinson in the least that had changed him so. He'd been dealing with her antics since he first became an Auror. Even farther back, if he considered their history at school. No. It wasn't Parkinson.

It was Katherine Whittler's dead body. It was the damn potion experiment that made his muscles _hurt_ every single second of every single day. It was men who left women broken and dead after holding them hostage for a _month_ , torturing and raping them only to discard them like trash. It was men like Bre's abusive boyfriend. Men like Jacques Moreau...

His own pain he could endure.

He wouldn't stand for the suffering of others.

"I love you Barbara O'Donnell, for being the tough as nails back bone of this whole place, keeping everyone in line and making sure we're doing our jobs. If you want my badge, take it. But I'm seeing this through no matter what."

Reluctantly, she dropped her hand and he went straight into the interrogation room. Pansy didn't even look at him, just resumed her pacing. "Get out of here Longbottom."

Pure. Icy. Venom.

"I can't do that."

"Then we have nothing to talk about."

He stepped around the table instead of taking a seat, and crowded her into the corner. Didn't matter one bit that she was so tiny, that he was so much taller than her. She managed to be threatening in her unique way despite being pushed into the wall. Murderous eyes. Determined chin. Why the hell did he find that so sexy all of the sudden? "If you value your life then you'll forget about it, and never speak to me again."

"What about the lives of those girls?" he asked deliberately, knowing she cared just as much as he when it came to finding their killer.

The tiniest of flinches. "What about them? They're gone. Nothing you can do for them now."

"I can give their families closure. Which is exactly what I promised to do, with or without your help. Your choice. Help me now, or go to jail for the murder of Theodore Nott."

He was getting annoyed with her calm attitude. He knew it to be a lie. One wrong move would set her off, push her into violence. He also fully understood there would be no putting her in a pair of cuffs again, she'd rather fight and die than be chained up. She'd rather push him away than allow Pearl to do to him what she did to Nott and he was willing to bet she didn't think he understood that.

She also didn't know him at all if she thought he was going to back off and drop this case.

"So now I ask, why the hell did you come back here? What brought you back to England?"

He watched her turn impossibly harder, as if she were truly turning into ice.

"Is this conversation private?" Her eyes darted to the two-way mirror and back to him.

"Probably not, they think I stood by and let you kill Nott."

"Idiots. Don't they know anything about you?" She shouted at the mirror in a show of bad temper, her fingers beginning to tremble. She was so close to breaking down but he couldn't back off. Not now.

"Do you?" he asked quietly.

Her fists curled and uncurled and she brought them against his chest. "I know you better than they do."

"But you think I would step away from my case." He argued.

"I'm… I'm asking." He watched her face twist as if the very words caused her pain to say.

"Not a fucking chance."

She moved so quickly he couldn't have stopped it even if he wanted to. From standing in front of him one moment to throwing the chair into the already damaged mirror with all her strength and a loud shout. "Get out of here!"

She screamed at Bobbi and Ron after the glass finished falling to the ground. "Leave!"

"Pansy!" He rushed to restrain her before she went after his friends, but she turned to him and grabbed his shirt with her hands as if clinging onto life itself.

"They can't know! I can't tell them!"

"Can't tell them what?" About her mother? They were exactly the right people to tell about Pearl. Aurors by definitions were dark wizard, or witch, hunters. They tracked them down and stopped them before they could hurt people.

"No Aurors! They can't know!"

"Know _what?!"_

"Pansy."

The new voice made Neville start and he turned them around but shoved Pansy behind him as he did. She easily broke from Neville's hold though and stumbled clumsily to stand in front of him, staring at the door in disbelief.

Her insides had been torn up since the moment she felt Theo take his last breath. She had realized all too late that she was very much still in love with the man, despite all the hardships they'd put each other through. Part of her always assumed they would end up together, eventually putting everything else aside. Two old idiots that finally got it together.

Rationally, she knew it would have never worked out. Knew they had changed too much from when they were young lovers running away from their childhood. But now they would never get that chance. Because her _mother_ had killed him while she'd been sleeping with another man…

And Draco Malfoy had been _drinking._ She could smell the whiskey on him. Bastard. She had needed him. _Theo_ had needed him.

She rushed him without compunction, hitting him in the jaw as hard as she could. The resounding crack almost hurt her ears. "You _liar."_ Liar because the man had promised Tory as she lie dying, sick and weak, in her bed that he would watch over Theo after she was gone.

Draco nearly fell over from the force of the hit, rubbing the blood from his lip before he stood straight and looked down at her, ignoring everyone else completely. Dark bags hung low under the man's eyes, deep grooves of frown lines on each side of his mouth. He looked defeated in every way.

"You liar!" Pansy took another swing but Neville was there this time to stop her, his fingers wrapping around her wrist with bruising force. " _ARGHH!_ Let me go Longbottom! Let me go!"

"It's fine Mr. Longbottom." Draco said it in a disturbingly quiet voice. He placed a hand on Pansy's shoulders and she nearly folded from the soft contact but ripped her hand from Neville's grip and took another swing.

"Damnit, Parkinson!" Neville turned to the broken window where Bobbi watched with rapt eyes, and to Ron who stood ready to defend them. "Cuffs!"

His friend didn't hesitate to throw his pair over to Neville but Draco waved him down again. "Please. It's all right." He insisted, allowing Pansy to take out her frustrations on him.

"You said you would always take care of him," Pansy said, hitting Draco again. "You promised Tory you would! You _promised!"_

"I know." Draco took one more hit before he raised his arms and attempted to drag Pansy into a hug. She fought him the whole way, her fists uncurling until she was slapping his chest with worn out effort.

"You're drunk," she accused.

"Never again," Draco told her. The man tilted up Pansy's face towards him and then made a point of looking at Neville. "You need to tell him the truth. We need help."

"No Aurors. The moment we tell any law enforcement…" Pansy shuddered. If she involved enforcement in anyway, her mother would hurt Posy, maybe even kill the girl. It was the one sure move Pearl had against Pansy, who was unlikely to ever involve enforcement anyways. They couldn't do anything anyways. Posy was a wolf. A creature. "Damn it!"

She pushed off Draco and continued her pacing, the movement of her feet the only thing keeping her together at that moment. Draco's cool presence gave her the illusion that she could get her emotions under control, but Neville stood on the other side of her, burning just as hot as he always did. Maybe even hotter now, after the night they spent together. Too hot… too cold.

She didn't want to admit it, but she'd never wanted her daddy as badly as she did just then. She wanted to smell the tobacco from his pipe and the clean scent of his robes. She wanted to hear his voice more than any other, wanted to hear him tell her that she could overcome anything. That she could _do_ anything she wanted, as long as she worked for it.

Instead all she could feel was Theo taking his last breath and the strange emptiness his body held after that breath was gone.

Draco handed Neville a piece of parchment. "My floo address." Then her friend gave her a hard look, "Your plan failed. It's time to start thinking of a different approach."

It would've hurt less if he'd hit her. She knew it already, but hearing it said out loud made her realize just how much of a failure she was. She came back for her _sister,_ and she was no closer to getting Posy back safely than she was the day she came home. But she'd been doomed from the start. Daphne set her up…

Theo, and gods it hurt to think about him, had said the witch had gotten a large sum payment for doing so, maybe it was her mother that had paid it. Pansy just had to figure out why, to get her out of the way while she was back in town? Keep her busy while she did whatever the hell she was doing with David Rowe? Pansy couldn't get in the way if she was in jail, that's for sure. But in the past, Pearl had hoarded Posy to herself and away from Pansy.

Her mother could sit comfortably knowing Pansy had no right to Posy, a little wolf.

Had something changed?

She remembered visiting Draco at the manor what seemed like ages ago but in reality was barely a week past… She'd left determined to get her sister back, even if that meant killing Pearl to do it.

Now she stood half covered in Theo's blood, wearing nothing but Neville's shirt, and trying so damn hard not to admit she was desperate.

Out of control.

And enraged.

A deadly combination she hadn't seen the likes of since Spain.

"Does anyone want to explain what the hell is going on here?" Ron Weasley asked from the other side of the broken glass. It was exactly the jarring slap of reality she needed. She could lose it now in front of these people she didn't trust and didn't know, or she could get it together for Draco and Neville…. For Posy.

Pansy turned to Neville and forced herself into a steady rhythm of breathing, centering herself with the tattered remains of her control, using Draco at her back to anchor her and Neville's steady brown-eyed gaze as encouragement.

When her bright eyes blinked open again, Neville saw true determination rise to the surface. She opened her mouth to speak. "I came back to England to rescue my sister from my mother."

oOo

The door opened. "Magic is out all over the city."

Harry Potter walked in dragging in a torn up and worn out David Rowe. The man stank to high heaven of sweat, blood, and alcohol and when Pansy tore her eyes from the confusion on Neville's face, she saw bright specks of black glitter in the whites of the man's eyes.

"Don't touch him!" Harry snapped when she went to look closer.

Just in time too, she dodged back as a hand half transformed swiped at her face, gnarled claws missing by less than inch. A nasty snarl left Rowe's mouth as he tried to lunge for her and she felt two very different hands, one belonging to Draco and the other to Neville, grab her arms and drag her backwards into safety.

"But how can he partial shift when the moon isn't full?" Bobbi asked.

"He was just dropped off by a pair of Barton's wolves," Harry told them, not answering Bobbi's question because no easy answer came forth.

David snarled again at the word 'Barton'. A beast in human form. "Must. Get. Her." His eyes said exactly who 'her' was.

Pansy.

"What for?" Pansy snapped at him wondering why he couldn't speak in complete sentences. The moon had come, but the wolf was clearly fighting for control over the man. Some other kind of force brought the wolf to the front.

"Must hunt..." He attempted again to go for Pansy, but Ron had joined Harry in restraining the raging man. Being a wolf made him a little stronger, but that sparkle in his eyes meant he'd taken Glimmer. It didn't add strength, but it definitely lowered inhibitions enough that it would make the user feel unstoppable. One wolf shouldn't have been a problem for two men of Ron and Harry's strength to contain. But that sparkle… Pansy had a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach just watching that sparkle. The deeper the color, the more potent the dose. But she'd never before seen black Glimmer before.

"Must rape… _Spitfire."_

She gasped at the words, understanding at once with terrifying clarity. David Rowe didn't take the drug willingly.

It'd been forced on him and by her mother too. Because no one else in the world, not even Posy knew of that little nickname. And very few people knew the horrifying truth of what happened when you forcibly shoved Glimmer into another person's body.

It compelled to do whatever they wanted.

Of course her psychotic mother would have figured that bit out. She loved to control people, she'd controlled Pansy until she finally had the guts to tell Pearl to shove it and gotten out on her own. Control she eventually exerted over Posy, but Pansy always thought Posy would be safe. Because Pearl seemed to genuinely love her youngest daughter, finally having a smaller version of herself. Finally having a daughter Pearl could be proud of.

Rowe jerked, fighting Harry and Ron with all his might. "Spitf _ire!_ " The word a desperate bale of sound, Pansy involuntarily took a step back.

When she realized that they, Bobbi, Ron, and Harry, were all waiting on Neville to step in and handle the situation with his super strength Pansy turned to see why he hadn't. The answer was that Neville was still standing in a state of shock, his mouth slightly hanging open as he looked at _her_.

"You have a sister?" He asked her in an odd tone she couldn't make heads of.

"That's not important right now, idiot." She couldn't help her harsh tone, her mind going a million miles an hour. Her mother the Glim dealer paying off Daphne the wealthy potion producer to set up Pansy to keep her occupied while they did what? Maybe Daphne didn't want to do tests on The Fern after all, maybe they had been messing with Glimmer all along. Giving Pearl even more control of the wolf population. More money. More power.

With a frothing roar, Rowe attempted yet again to lunge at her. And Harry Potter proved why he was Head Auror.

"Bobbi, go get the titanium cuffs from my office. Neville, snap out of it and restrain this man. What is 'spitfire'?"

Bobbi left immediately, but he didn't move right away. Instead Neville pinned her with such a scrutinizing look and she knew then that she had dangerously tilted his world with her revelation about Posy. It felt as if they were back to square one with that look in his eyes, and even as a little voice in the back of her mind said it was better that way, better to distance themselves now, she wanted to grab him by the chin and make him realize how important it was to keep Posy a secret. She wanted to be selfish and keep him to herself, to repeat the night they'd had together.

But whatever bit of trust they developed in the last 24 hours was gone now.

Just another blow to endure, she thought bitterly. "Me. I'm spitfire. My father used to call me that."

Another shock. Neville's eyes narrowed even further at her before he did as Harry instructed and walked over to restrain Rowe. The man fought against Neville's hold violently but Neville was far stronger.

"Don't knock him out," Pansy told him. "We need to question him."

"I'm not done questioning _you._ " He was back to growling.

"He just said he wants to rape me," she growled right back. "He has glitter in his eyes. And he just called me by the name my father only ever called me. _My mother_ sent him to us, we need to figure out why, you complete and total idiot!"

Teeth clenching, Neville gripped Rowe's wrists with one hand, keeping him subdued without a sweat as he moved even closer to Pansy, grabbing her arm with his other hand. "Why am I not surprised that the only woman crazier than you _is your fucking mother!"_

She reached out and grabbed the back of his neck roughly. "You haven't seen crazy yet if you don't get your head on right right-fucking-now!"

"Did you _see_ Nott? Did you see what she did to him!?"

"Why no, no I didn't. This blood all over me just appeared there as if by magic!" She gasped dramatically.

"That's not helping anything!" Bobbi came back with the cuffs and Neville practically ripped Pansy's hand from the back of his neck when he went for them. He cuffed Rowe with rough movements, jerking the man harshly when he went to try to get at Pansy again. Restrained, Neville pushed him into Ron's open hands and tried not to let the wolf add to his anger. "How could you not tell me you had a sister? How could I not know that you had a bloody sister?!"

"Because my sister is none of your fucking business, that's why." And suddenly they were yelling over each other and pointing fingers in their faces, while everyone else stood awkwardly off to the side.

"Stubborn bitch-"

"O _hh go on_ , call me a bitch!"

"I will! And your mother is a fucking psycho if she's dealing Glim-"

"You don't think I know my mother is nuts?! Ask Draco, better yet ask Theo! Oh wait you can't-"

"-and well enough that she controls the fucking Barton family-"

"-because he fucking died because my mother _killed him-_ "

"-while I was lugging your knocked out ass out of that club-"

"-with the knife I gave my sister so she could protect herself-"

"-running from wolves and crazy men in suits and idiots with _guns_ -"

"-and you men are so arrogant, thinking you've a right to a woman's personal life-"

"-just so I can _maybe_ get a little information out of you that _might_ help my case-"

"- _just because we slept together doesn't mean you're entitled to all my secrets!"_

She screeched so loudly Bobbi plugged her ear with a finger. And Harry dug 5 galleons out of his pocket and handed them to Ron with a sigh.

"Are you going to break this up?" Bobbi asked Harry after rolling her eyes.

"With magic down? I wouldn't touch that pile of crazy with a ten-foot pole." Ron nodded in agreement as Harry spoke, and none of them were surprised when the verbal fighting turned physical. They seemed to move at the same time, Neville's hand went to Pansy's arm and her fist connected with his nose with a loud _popping_ sound.

oOo

Susan wiped Annie's forehead with a cool towel and tried to understand what in the world was happening to her patient. She was flushed and as far as Susan could tell, deeply aroused. Glimmer was, at its very basic, unstable magic compressed into a small crystal that when pushed into the bloodstream dissolved instantly and burned up a person's natural magic.

From the reports Susan read, the effect varied from person to person, leaving some gasping in sexual desire, others in a peaceful oblivion. The process produced such a staggering high it was immediately addictive. But on all accounts it burned through a person's system pretty quickly. An hour or two then the addict needed another hit. The withdraw lasted a little longer than that, depending on several factors like body type and age and how long the person had been using.

As far as Susan could tell, Annie's captors had loaded her up with enough Glimmer to knock out three fully grown men and then some. But it'd been almost three days since Neville brought Annie into St. Mungo's. The symptoms of her withdraw should have been getting better, not worse.

With a groan, Annie's eyes darted beneath her eyelids. Her fever spiked the day before and try as she might, Susan could not get it down. But with magic down, and how worrisome it was that it had been down for as long as it had, she couldn't do anything about it but rely on Muggle methods. She dosed Annie up with a fever reducer and tried to keep her cool, thinking of the million other things she needed to get done that day.

A bit later she left Annie to get back to the grind and made her way to her office but got stopped when she spotted Pansy Parkinson coming down the hallway. She wore a fitted midnight blue colored tunic the sleeves and cuffs bordered with silver thread that screamed expensive and classy to Susan's untrained eye.

The two female Aurors Harry set to guard Annie nodded to the woman who seemed to rile Neville like no other. A little on the short side, she made up with it by a lot of personality in Susan's opinion. And it didn't matter how short she was when she could take down someone as strong as Neville Longbottom. The woman was _fit._

But what impressed Susan was whatever Pansy Parkinson said to Annie the day she visited. Previous to the visit, Annie had been quiet and withdrawn in a way that told Susan the woman didn't want to live after what had been done to her. She'd seen similar reactions immediately after the war, and knew the emotional price those that didn't die in the fighting paid to be alive.

But after the visit, Annie had a little spark in her eye. It was a dull spark, barely there. But it had been there nonetheless. The spark bloomed hope.

So when Pansy stopped in front of her, Susan decided to give her the time of day. "Ms. Parkinson," she greeted. "How can I help you?"

The witch paused and considered her. "Nice to see you again, Healer. How's the… patient?"

Perhaps she decided to be extra polite to Susan because she was Neville's friend? "Not good. I've never seen such a bad reaction to Glimmer before. It's as if she's been taking Glimmer for far longer than her captors were giving it to her, which wrecks your immune system. I'm hoping with lots of rest she'll recover."

"I see," Pansy said quietly, not seeming herself. "What else can you tell me about her condition?"

Susan felt a moment's hesitation, thinking it was unlike Pansy to speak so softly. Unless she was annoying Neville. Of course, Susan didn't really know her very well despite having seen her naked. Maybe that's what prompted the woman to be polite and soft spoken. She was embarrassed to be seen naked by her and Connor that morning, and Susan could understand that perfectly.

She shook it off. Neville trusted Pansy, even if he didn't think he did. Susan could tell where his loyalties lie and this witch was on the short list. "Fever, shakes, chills, dehydration."

"That's normal for Glim withdraw though, isn't it?"

"Yes, but she's still experiencing effects of Glimmer as if she'd just taken it. Most pointedly, she's aroused."

"Strange." Pansy looked away but Susan caught the look of excitement on her face. "Do you mind if I sit with her?"

"No not at all, but she's resting so try not to wake her. She needs it."

"Yes, Healer."

Strange indeed. Susan went to her office and continued to work. Potions were only getting more and more expensive as the days past, magic becoming even less reliable. It was a scary thought and history taught them nothing of how to resolve the issue. Susan had even began taking classes at the closest medical university in case they ever had to go fully Muggle.

Ten minutes passed and she felt a sizzle across the back of her neck, her body taking a deeper breath than necessary. Magic returned with the subtlest of signs. She couldn't help but wonder what they would do if at one point it didn't return at all.

Her phone buzzed with a message from Ron Weasley.

' _Can you come to the offices? Nev and She-Devil went at it hard, need medical.'_

Susan looked up and frowned. She assumed 'She-Devil' meant Pansy… but Pansy was visiting Annie Stokes, wasn't she? She got up and rushed down the hall, past the two Aurors, and into Annie's room.

The bed was empty.

* * *

 _I am now on Tumblr as ladyylla!_


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** Thanks to all who review my story! Not too much violence in this chapter. A special thanks to **LadyCumberBunny** for being my cosmic soulmate who puts up with my crazy ideas and is the best sounding board!

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Chapter Sixteen

(The one with kittens, pink shirts, and blue jeans... oh my)

Neville sat on the small couch in his office trying very hard to ignore the knowing look Hermione was giving him as she attempted to fix his broken nose. Harry and Ron had dragged David Rowe off for questioning when Neville and Pansy's fight turned physical, the commotion only making the wolf more agitated than he already was. But it was the chiding look Bobbi had given him that turned his stomach into stone. Because it should have been Neville questioning Rowe, not Harry or Ron. All his effort into convincing Bobbi not to stick him on desk duty and he'd gone and let Pansy distract him, yet again, from the bigger picture.

"Ron and I fight quite a bit," Hermione said as she worked.

"Physically?" he snapped loudly, and immediately regretted it when she gave a small flinch. Internally he knew Hermione wasn't the reason he was so angry, but her magic felt like bee stings all the way to the bone. And the person he wanted to yell at wasn't there at the moment, she was down the hall with Draco and Les after accepting a change of clothes from Hermione.

Forcing himself to get a grip, he apologized to his friend and tried not to feel so betrayed. But he should have known better than to trust Pansy Parkinson.

"Hmmm no, not technically," Hermione continued on after a second, her wand not cooperating.

"Not technically?" What the hell did that mean?

A line of red appeared across her cheeks. "Half the time our verbal fights are just precursor for other … physical… activities."

"Oh 'Mione, no."

She shrugged and gestured to her pregnant belly. "How do you think this happened?"

He rolled his eyes and leaned farther back into the couch, his nose somehow hurting worse the more it healed.

"She does that too," Hermione said softly. "Rolls her eyes, especially at you. Are you worried for her? I brought her some clothes to change into."

"Just get to the point."

"I'm saying maybe it's just your way of flirting, getting that physical."

"Fuck -"

"Language!"

"- I would never hurt a woman physically, Hermione!" He wouldn't he told himself... but he'd be lying to both of them if he said he wouldn't do it all again if given the chance. And that right there was the real reason he was so angry. He wasn't sure if he could forget pressing her against that rough brick wall, or the feel of his mouth on hers, or the hot burst of pleasure when she came on his fingers. Or later… the manner in which they'd destroyed every surface of his house.

"Stay still!" She put on a hand on his shoulder to back up the verbal command, breaking him from his memories. "And no, you wouldn't. But she's not a woman to you, is she?"

The question echoed his conversation with Pansy in his bathroom just that morning. He didn't know what to say then and he didn't know what to say now either. Suddenly the weight of the last few days settled on his shoulders. He needed sleep in a terrible way.

She continued. "Is the relationship dynamic different because she's just as strong a fighter as you?"

"I-" he began, but the door slammed open causing Hermione to jump.

"You swotty bitch, Granger."

Neville looked over Hermione's head and caught sight of a bright pink turtleneck and a pair of modest blue jeans and thought he might have been hallucinating. He'd been up for over 36 hours and hadn't eaten in the last 24, so the likelihood of his mind playing such tricks on him was high. Because there was no way in hell that Pansy, leather clad, knife-wielding, bad-to-the-bone, punched him in the nose earlier just to shut him up, Parkinson was wearing a pink turtleneck and a pair of jeans.

Pansy slammed the office door behind her and pointed a finger right at Hermione. "What the hell is this!? Switch shirts with me!"

"What? I can't, this is my maternity shirt." Hermione insisted, fingering her plain grey, but loose shirt.

Looking between the two women who couldn't be more different, Neville felt something in his chest. It bubbled up until he was laughing so hard he almost fell over. "You - you look ridiculous!"

Pansy practically hissed at him. "You're laughing?"

"C'mon little kitty cat, you look so cute." The words slipped out of his mouth without his permission, his brain feeling far too tired to filter the outrageous term of endearment. But it was worth it for the look Pansy gave him. Kitten.

Her little mouth dropped open and her bright eyes narrowed dangerously. Did he just... did those words... "Do you want me to re-break that nose you just got healed, Longbottom?"

"You can try, kitten." He taunted her even as he realized he was completely delirious. It fit, he couldn't explain why, but it fit just right. He managed to pull Hermione out of the way just in time to feel Pansy's fist connect with his tender nose. And still, he couldn't stop laughing even as his nose broke again.

"Honestly you two!" Hermione chided, pushing herself up from the couch. "I know you've both had a very long couple of days but I need you both to pull it together!"

Pansy stomped to the other side of the room and made a grumpy sound as her fists curled in anger. "When can I get my dagger back?"

"Let me finish healing up this one and I'll see what I can do." Hermione told her and then turned back to Neville, seeing the blood drip from his nose. "Honestly."

Knowing that particular tone of voice, he made himself remain as still as possible to allow Hermione to heal up his nose, again, and he had nothing else to do but be aware of Pansy as she angrily paced around his office and began snooping through his desk. He wanted to laugh and be angry with her at the same time, was that possible?

"Must you?"

"I'm dressed in," she groaned. "-pink. They have my dagger. My own mother is out to get me. Yes, yes I must."

"Why don't you sit still," he suggested, feeling wicked. "And the pink is cute."

"Call me cute one more time and I'll break something far more fragile than your nose."

He couldn't help the stupid grin on his face, nor when his voice dropped a bit. "Do the words 'nose', 'spite', and 'face' have any meaning to you?"

"If you feel that your cock has any power over me then please allow me to educate you, Longbottom. I've had better."

Hermione snorted so hard and a second later a huge burst of magic slapped him right in the face. "Ouch! Hermione! Watch what you're doing with that wand!"

"I'm sorry! Darn it, Nev. My emotions are going haywire right now! I'm worried about you two, I'm concerned about Bobbi, Ron is driving me crazy, I don't even know where Harry is… and the both of you are starting to look like giant boxes of cereal to me! So if you would both please shut up and let me fix your stupid nose and then go get my bowl of cereal I would be most grateful!"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Definitely a mother. Here, let me try."

She came around the desk and put her hand out for Hermione's wand.

"I-"

"I'll give it right back, honestly. Like I even need a wand."

Tentatively Hermione placed her own wand in Pansy's hand and Neville again felt like he did just this time yesterday, with Pansy standing in front of him telling him he needed a disguise to go to the club. His breath hitched, but this time for a different reason.

" _Episkey_!"

His nose snapped into place and immediately felt better, though still a little bloody.

"But - how? With my wand? And magic being -"

"Don't ask questions, Granger." Pansy placed the wand in Hermione's hand and went back to Neville's desk, flopping into the chair with an air of exhaustion.

"I was trying to heal - if I had known a spell would work - I need to go practice my wand work."

"Nice to see some things haven't changed." Pansy told her.

Hermione paused at the door, looking from her over to Neville on the couch. "It's nice to see some things have."

Hermione shut the door behind her, then walked down the hall and entered Bobbi's office with a soft knock. Bobbi, Harry, and Ron stood around the desk discussing the matter at hand. But she could barely focus on their words, instead imagining herself with a large bowl of some kind of crunchy, sugary cereal in ice cold milk. Pansy's infamous dagger lay on Bobbi's desk and she picked it up, immediately feeling a chill in her hand as her fingers wrapped around the hilt.

"'Mione please be careful with that."

"Ron I've handled far more dangerous artifacts than this." But she wanted the dagger back in its proper place as soon as possible.

"Why did Rowe knock himself out?" Ron asked instead of pressing Hermione further.

"Did it seem like he was trying not to?" Harry asked.

"Yes, it did." Bobbi nodded. "Like he was fighting himself when he realized he could no longer get to Parkinson."

"I'm going to give it back to her." Hermione said suddenly, the dagger seeming agreeable.

"What was that now?" Bobbi turned towards her. "I can get behind her not being the one that killed Nott, but she's most certainly involved. Do we really want to just hand over her weapons and let her continue on fucking up Neville's life?"

"Language!"

"I agree with Bobbi," Harry said. "Nev is out of his mind."

"He's more than out of his mind-"

"He's in love." Hermione interrupted Ron. They all looked at her like she was crazy, a look she was quite familiar with. She couldn't not tell them what she'd witnessed. "She made him laugh."

Bobbi's mouth dropped open in shock, and Hermione secretly relished the bewildered look on Ron and Harry's faces knowing exactly how both men tended to think through things. In their minds, there wasn't a chance in hell Neville would ever fall for someone like Pansy Parkinson. Hermione knew most of their close-knit group expected him to find a sweet little witch Neville could spend all his time dotting on, but she had always known better.

His best friends weren't the stay at home and knit sweaters type, no offense to her mother-in-law. Ginny was a professional Quidditch player, Luna was off looking for dangerous beasts with her husband. Bobbi was a tough as nails Auror who kept the entirety of The Offices in line. And Susan. Somehow no one saw that coming, but the friendship between Susan Bones and Neville Longbottom was made of pure steel. Hermione had no trouble at all seeing Neville fall for someone like Pansy Parkinson, who was just strong enough to take him on and not put up with any of his sulking either.

She gave them all a smile and took the dagger back down the hall and into Neville's office. She opened the door to see Neville and Pansy laying on the couch with their arms around each other, fast asleep.

oOo

"I don't like you like this," he said the moment Hermione left the office.

Pansy gripped the bottom of the pink shirt and visibly shuddered. "Trust me, me either."

"That's not what I'm talking about."

She really did look cute, he hadn't been lying. The turtleneck hid the bruises he'd put on her, made it easier to ignore the gut-wrenching guilt he felt for putting them on her in the first place. Add the cheerful color that made her look younger, a little softer. Almost sweet. He could deal with a sweet Pansy Parkinson.

What he couldn't handle was her fear.

She stood from his chair and came to stand in front of him, placing her hands on his shoulders. But that was as far as she dared to go. The look she gave him was pure ice. "If I were smart, I would high-tail it out of town."

Her words sounded like a test. "If you run, I'll chase you down." Because despite his wavering trust in her, and the guilt at hurting her, Neville was beginning to see what he thought of as the 'real' Pansy. He couldn't walk away from this, whatever it was, and he sure as hell wasn't going to let her disappear again as she had so many times over the years.

"Back to growling at me?" She shook her head, dark hair falling over her shoulder. "I must leave. She'll do to you what she did to Theo."

"Harry can go get your sister-"

"She's a wolf. Posy-" Pansy blinked and he felt her muscles tremble. "Posy is only nine years old. Even a little wolf wouldn't stand a chance against my mother. And your friends can't take her away, because she's a creature."

Neville couldn't help wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a hug, the both of them going horizontal. He went to sleep feeling her fingers explore under his shirt, her hands pressing into the muscles of his back. "So strong," she whispered into his ear. "What price do you pay for it?"

"I'm paying it now," he told her, wrapping his arms around her. He wanted to remain awake and continue arguing with her, continue learning her secrets. But with that husky voice in his ear, he fell asleep the moment his eyes shut and the last coherent thought he had was thinking he wanted to hear her sing to him.

All too soon Bobbi nudged his shoulder. "LB, wake up."

"What's wrong, Bobs?" He rubbed his eyes and wondered how being tired could hurt so bad. He was instantly aware of Pansy asleep in the crook of his arm.

"I tried to let you sleep as long as I could, but you need to wake up now," Bobbi whispered.

It was important enough that he couldn't go back to sleep Neville realized. He rubbed his eyes again and shifted gently as to not wake up Pansy. He laid her back down on the couch and watched her frown but remain completely asleep. He threw his jacket over her and left the office with Bobbi, noting the Pat on guard by the door.

"What's happened?" he asked.

"Susan called Connor a couple of hours ago. Annie Stokes has been abducted from St. Mungo's."

He paused just outside of her office, focusing his tired eyes on Bobbi's face. "What? We have two Aurors guarding that room. How did anyone get to her?"

"Because whoever it was, they were disguised as Pansy Parkinson." Susan said from inside the office.

Frowning, he went into the office and leaned down to look at Susie. Her eyes were red and puffy and he knew she'd been crying. "What the hell happened?"

"Annie hasn't been doing too well, Nev. The Glimmer they gave her, it's wrecking her system. I was sitting with her this morning and when I got up, Pansy walked down the hall and asked to sit with her. About ten minutes later I got this text from Ron."

She showed him her phone, quickly reading the message she received. "That was right after magic came back."

"Pansy showed up at Mungo's before magic came back. I'm positive. I remember when it returned, I remember thinking it had been gone for a lot longer than usual. And that was in my office after I told Pansy she could sit with Annie."

"She's been here all day, since… this morning." He wondered who would try to frame Pansy?

"What happened this morning?" Susie asked him.

"Theodore Nott was found murdered. By them." Bobbi answered. "But Parkinson has been here since then, we have her on camera in the interrogation room and in Neville's office, where she still is. She couldn't have been at St. Mungo's."

"Magic was down, they couldn't have used magic to disguise themselves so… Polyjuice potion?" Neville ventured.

"The question is who is interested in Annie Stokes and would also see fit to blame her disappearance on Pansy?" Bobbi sat in her chair and rubbed her temples.

"Maybe her mother."

"And why can't we go question her again?" Bobbi sounded annoyed.

"Pansy is pretty sure if Pearl gets even a hint of enforcement involvement, she'll take it out on the sister."

"Sister?" Susan asked.

"Posy. She's only 9 and she's a wolf. So we can't legally take her away unless we can prove Pearl did something unlawful. Fuck. I'm going to have to wake up Pansy, see what she knows."

"Take Ron with you," Bobbi told him and he knew it was the biggest concession he would get from her. God he was lucky she hadn't put his ass on desk duty the moment he walked in the building. They'd have to play the rest of the case just right.

Susie walked him back to his office. "You look like hell, Nev."

"What? I've never felt better," he teased and gave her a smile.

"Idiot." But then she said, "I should have known it wasn't her."

"Don't blame yourself, we'll find Annie." It was the only option. He wouldn't except another outcome.

Neville felt himself shifting gears, determined to make sure Annie Stokes wouldn't be another name on his list.

Ron and Les met them a second later and Neville told them to stay by the door remembering the secret Pansy shared with him. He remembered the words very clearly, listening to them standing in his bathroom as he'd done up the buttons of the shirt she'd stolen from him after spending the entire night together.

She didn't like waking up in a strange place. But after learning what she went through, Neville couldn't blame her. In fact, he was starting to feel damn proud of her even though she was constantly driving him crazy. He wanted to let her sleep a little longer, but Annie needed them.

Neville knew Pansy's anger would trump over her fear every time. "Kitten," he nudged her ever so softly and placed his hand on her chest, moving his jacket off her before his fingers brushed her neck on top of that ridiculous pink shirt she wouldn't wear in a million years. "Wake up."

He felt her heartbeat turn erratic, muscles tensing beneath his hand. Her hand shot up and wrapped around his wrist. To anyone else it would seem a normal byplay between them, but Neville felt her fear.

"Here kitty kitty kitty…"

Her grip tightened but between one second and the next her breath evened, her eyes blinking open. The bad moment passed. "Suicidal, Longbottom?"

"Always liked a bit of danger."

"Call me kitten one more time -" she growled.

"Pansy, Annie Stokes was taken from St. Mungo's."

Her tired eyes narrowed in his direction. "But why? Who would want Annie? Her captors?"

"I'm not sure, but there's more. The person who took her was disguised to look like you."

She blinked and he could practically see the wheels turning behind her eyes. "Magic was down. Polyjuice potion?"

Scary how often they thought along the same lines. Scarier that it didn't phase her someone tried to impersonate her. "But Polyjuice takes a month to brew," Ron told them from the door. "So whoever used it had it on hand."

"Would your mother have access to Polyjuice potion on short notice?"

"Maybe." She sat up and glanced down at her shirt with a grimace. "But she would never willingly make herself look like me."

"Then who?"

"Who else has proven they like setting me up and also runs a successful potion company?"

His gaze turned questioning. "But what would Daphne Greengrass want with Annie Stokes?"

She told him about the payout Greengrass received prior to the set up.

"You think it's your mother?" he asked.

Pansy raised an eyebrow and he felt sexual heat roll across his shoulders and settle in his chest just from watching that simple movement. He did all he could to push the emotion into a small box in the corner of his mind so he could focus on his case at hand. There was no denying it now, Pansy's mission and Neville's case were connected and they needed to find out why. "Let's stage a fight."

"What for?" Neville asked slowly.

Pansy's eyes traveled over the faces of Neville's friends, she could use any one of them to manipulate Neville into doing whatever she wanted. Ron would be the only one physically that might give her a problem, but even then she would cheat to win. If she wanted. She was an expert at it, but Pearl could out maneuver her any day of the week.

Pearl could do that to Neville in a heartbeat.

"You're the best weapon I have against my mother, only if she doesn't think you a threat. Theo... the message she left on Theo… I believe she's had eyes on me since the moment I touched down, which means she knows we're working together."

Neville nodded, following along. "So we stage a fight, and I arrest you. Pearl thinks you're out of the picture."

"And we'd be safe to go after Daphne, as long as we did it quietly." Pansy smirked and Neville felt himself mirroring the gesture.

"You okay to fake getting arrested? Could make the news." Ron asked, giving her a wary eye.

Her response gave Neville chills. "Pride means nothing if you can't keep your promises."

"I'll do some research into Greengrass, see if I can't dig up some info on where she could keep Annie Stokes." Les offered.

"Also look up her assistant, Garrett Buchanan."

"Good." Neville nodded. "Ron, does Bobbi still have that friend that works at the Prophet?"

Ron smiled, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "I love a good plan."

oOo

Except Franzetta couldn't meet them until the next morning which is how Pansy found herself sitting in the chilly sunshine beside Draco in the family plot located on the extensive Malfoy Lands while Neville slept in one of the many guest rooms in the manor. They could afford to wait on their plan, because whoever took Annie needed her alive. For what, they didn't know. But Pansy was determined to find out who took the sweet girl who had a spine of steel and a will to match.

The headstones were kept immaculate, the hedges trimmed to offer privacy, the breeze a little too chilly but she kept her eyes on Tory's gravestone and tried to remember the good times. She might have been Draco's wife, but the witch had been one of Pansy's true friends. She liked the way a robust English Rowan nearby scented the air faintly with roses and provided a gentle shade for Astoria's grave. It seemed fitting.

"Thank you for coming to get me," she told Draco, eyes tracing the carved letters in the headstone.

"Mr. Auror has had a positive impact on you lately. You almost sounded polite for a second." His words were rough and she wondered if he meant it when he said he would stop drinking.

"Don't get used to it."

"I won't get used to you."

Pansy didn't have to guess as to what he meant, the two of them had always been comfortable with being honest and upfront with each other. The problem was that she didn't think she could be honest with herself at the moment. The fear that wrapped itself around Pansy the moment she felt Theo take his final breath hadn't been enough to stop her from going back to Neville. Or feeling safe enough to fall asleep with him.

"I can't stay."

He went silent for a long time, the both of them staring out over Tory's grave. He finally said, "That sounds like fear talking."

"Neville says he doesn't like me this way." She spoke of that very fear, because if she didn't it would take control, and she'd lost enough of that already. Her fingers trembled at that thought so she busied them by playing with the hem of Granger's stupid pink shirt.

"He's right."

"But I should go. By staying I put those I love in danger."

Draco looked at her with the eyes of a man who made his own mistakes and had to learn a steep lesson for it. "Could you leave, knowing she's locked up and waiting for you to go and rescue her? Your sister is mature for her age, perhaps she would eventually come to understand why she was abandoned by her big sister…"

"You bastard." The words were choked out of her and tasted bitter on her tongue.

"No no, you want to act like the girl you used to be. Meek and unaffected by the world, allowing your mother to manipulate you-"

"I'm not!"

"I'm not blaming you," Draco spoke over her, his voice dropping in seriousness. Her fingers trembled without her permission again, throat so thick she couldn't swallow. Thousands of hours spent training, harsh disciplined regimens she forced her body to endure, all while holding a tight emotional grip on herself… It all went out the window as she sat on that bench looking at Tory's gravestone thinking about her baby sister.

"I'm not blaming you, Pans." Draco repeated, and pulled a folded up newspaper from his jacket. "But Longbottom is right," he unfolded the paper and showed her the other day's front page. "You're so afraid you let them put you in handcuffs and take you back to The Offices. And I don't blame you because I know how you feel right now."

"You couldn't." Not able to stand it any longer, she stood and walked over to the grave, sinking to her knees. "How could you possibly know how I feel right now? She killed Theo, Draco. Did you even see his body?"

She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't. "My own mother… carved into him with Posy's dagger, she tortured him all night long, kept him alive just to hurt him… only because he loved me." She wiped at her cheeks and wondered how much more she could take, wondered what else her mother could put her through. A horrible thought invaded her mind and she couldn't help but picture Draco slashed up as Theo had been, blood a velvet sweater on his chest. It didn't matter that she loved the two men in completely different ways, Draco meant just as much, maybe even more, to her as Theo. "Narcissa keeps you safe, otherwise Pearl would have hurt you a long time ago."

She didn't hear him move, but when he sank into the cold grass next her she couldn't help grabbing onto him in a desperate hug. "Draco…"

"Theo was my friend, and Tory loved him so much. Don't, don't you dare, tell me that you loved him more than I did. " He took a deep breath, both of them shaking in their grief, then his grip turned tighter and they held each other. They stayed like that for a long enough time that the sun began to sink in the grey sky, that their fingers and noses turned red from the cold.

He stood them up together, brushing off her shirt and his long coat before walking back to the bench and picking up the newspaper clipping that must have fallen to the ground during their fight. "You may not like to hear it, but now's not the time to sugarcoat the situation. Longbottom is in the right, you're no good like this much as I'd like to see you soften up a bit."

She sniffed, rubbing her frozen fingers together. He continued, "This is the girl that came back to the very place she hates to save her sister. This girl, right here, is who you need to be to win this fight with Pearl. Otherwise she's already won."

He left the newspaper in her hand and, after kissing his fingers and pressing them into the gravestone, he left her on the bench to think about their fight. She couldn't look away from the article picture, though she'd seen it before when Theo showed it to her. Herself, laughing as she spun a beater's bat through the air. The article was completely sensationalized, boasting about a secret source that mentioned her 'lover's quarrel' and that before she arrived in London, she'd been off stealing artwork in Rome.

The article didn't matter, not really.

The picture though…

She remembered the rush she felt that day in Diagon Alley, recalled the feel of the wooden bat in her hands, the sounds of glass breaking, the thrill of being chased by Neville and the resulting fight they'd had. Both of them pushing each other to move faster, dodge quicker, punch harder…

She'd known Neville would come for her, and what different kind of rush that was now, only days later. Then, she only wanted to get her ward pick back. Now… that rush filled her abdomen with a warm ache.

Inch by slow inch, she pulled the tattered remains of her control back together. Made herself remember the satisfaction of breaking all those Quoram bottles, how it felt like smashing Jac's face instead of glass with each swing. It filled her up, turned her posture straight, her breath even.

Theo was dead. She could nothing for him except bring his killer to justice.

Pansy crumpled the paper as she made a fist. Sleep. Eat. Change out of that god-awful pink shirt. That was the plan.

She made her way through the grounds as sun fully set on the day and up to the guest room Narcissa had readied for her, caught sight of the door across the hallway. She'd been surprised when Neville took her through the Floo to Malfoy Manor instead of going home.

 _'If you run, I'll chase you.'_

She found herself turning the knob to his room instead of her own, stepping through on quiet feet. She closed the door behind her with the tiniest of snicks and waited, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness. The window allowed a sliver of moonlight, just enough for her to make out the lumpy form of Neville under the thick, richly decorative blanket. The four poster bed had dark colored drapes, but he'd allowed the curtains on his side to remain open.

It was exactly the encouragement she needed.

She stepped silently, making even her breath soundless. She played her dagger through her fingers, the movement familiar and comforting, until her knees just brushed the edge of the bed. Softly covered by the darkness, Neville's eyes blinked open and connected with hers. She kicked off her boots and pulled her shirt over her head, shimmying out of the borrowed blue jeans and then... just stood there, looking down, feeling raw. The smallest nugget of worry wormed its way into her thoughts, but she pushed it away. She could fret about his well being another time, maybe. He'd proven to her on several occasions he would rather be hurt than give up on the victims of his case. She had to trust that. He was tough. Stronger than any man she knew, and the same would be true with or without his supernatural strength.

"Going to crawl into bed kitten, or just stare at my pretty face all night?" His voice, gritty with sleep, said the words in that tone of voice he only used with her. Exasperation, and the hint of a taunt.

"What did I tell you about calling me that, Longbottom?"

She saw the shrug underneath the covers, watched as he turned his back to her like her words hadn't been threatening. Then he said, "I'll never forget it. You in that pretty pink sweater, looking all sweet and soft."

If any man dared tease her so, she would have made him regret it a hundred ways to Sunday. But instead of picking a fight, she lifted the closest corner of the covers and slid into bed beside him, the warmth in the sheets almost a shock to her system. "I'm not soft. Or sweet." And she turned on her side, giving him her back, resting her head on her arm. She could be very patient when she wanted to, and had no problem seeing which one of them would turn first. She didn't have to wait long.

"It was sweet what you did." He turned over and placed a rough hand on her bare shoulder. Oh, he was talking about Theo. She didn't want to talk about Theo. Her breath caught. She didn't want to talk at all, not with those rough fingers brushing over her skin.

"I just had this argument with Draco."

His hand moved slowly down her shoulder, his finger tracing her shoulder blade briefly before he came to her spine. They stayed like that for long enough that the moonlight shifted, until it blanketed them with its silver rays.

When he spoke again his voice was deeper. "Are you saying you don't want to fight with me?"

Smug. Bastard. She flipped her position to face him, catching that very male grin on his face. He looked as hard as the moonlight felt soft, his jaw covered with dark bristles, his nose and eyes darkened with the bruises she gave him. The cut too seemed darker, shadowed though she knew it had started healing. She traced it from his collarbone all the way up to the tip of his jaw.

"Never." But his smile faded as his eyes lowered to the bruises on her neck. "Why does that upset you?"

He sighed, tracing the bruise with his finger much as he'd done with her spine. "You ever wonder why I started physical training?"

"You couldn't tell the front end of your wand from the back?"

He gave her a look. "It wasn't just because Magic was becoming unreliable."

She inched closer to him and then told him something she'd never told anyone. "I found my trainer Tony because I didn't want to feel helpless ever again."

His hand spread across the skin of her neck, palm down on her upper chest. "Admitting that must feel like swallowing sandpaper for you."

Neville knew the words would make her angry, but he was quickly coming to realize he'd rather deal with her unique brand of icy temper than keep seeing that frightened look in her eyes. But he wasn't ready for her fingers to spread and sharp nails to dig into the skin of his chest.

He sucked in a breath.

"Why did you start training?"

"My old partner and I worked a case with this witch, she was just a girl. Her dad beat the hell outta her. Kept her locked in her room, barely fed her any, I couldn't believe it. We caught him red-handed, case was open and close, but he escaped."

"How?" She rubbed her fingers into his shoulders, massaging gently.

"This was back when the department was still ran through the Ministry… he slipped through the cracks. He killed his daughter. Beat her to death, never once went for his wand." Him and Jory had been right there… if they'd been a second quicker, even half a second… Her nails dug into his shoulders. "Ouch!"

"I'm sorry, is that distracting?" she asked with saccharine sweetness, humor in her eyes.

"What do you think?" But he appreciated it anyways.

"Good." A smirk. "You thought you could balance the scales, didn't you? Go around punching the bad guys, rescuing the helpless ladies."

"I can't stand that I…" he pressed a finger to her neck, blew out a hard breath. He fucking hurt her.

Quick as a snap, she rolled them until he lay flat on his back and she had either knee on his sides, her hands pinning his shoulders down. "Let me ask you a question." She moved to straddle him, pressing herself over his hips. Only the barrier of the cotton briefs he wore to sleep kept them from truly connecting. "Do you think I would allow a man to put his hands on me if I didn't want him to?"

She grabbed his hands, placed them on her thighs. "C'mon, Longbottom, you're not as dumb as some might think." She guided those rough hands up further until his fingers spread over her hips, higher up her sides. "I'm not sweet, I'm not soft, and I will never let a man hurt me so long as I have the power to stop it. Do you doubt that?"

His fingers dug into her skin around her ribs, his thumbs cupping underneath her breasts. No, no he didn't doubt that. Her harsh way of telling him to get a grip did more than some pretty words would have. And maybe he really was an idiot. He knew Pansy Parkinson better than anyone, knew exactly how many tiny pieces he'd end up in if he dared violate her in anyway.

Pansy Parkinson might like it rough, but if Neville ever truly hurt her, he better run. Run quick.

"Tomorrow we fight?" he asked, pushing aside his guilt for now.

"Tomorrow." And she leaned in, took his mouth in a kiss that felt like a brand. He kept his eyes on her, his hands still, though he couldn't stop himself from rubbing the underside of her breasts with his thumbs. This felt far different from last night. Their… activities then had been wild and untamed, but both of them were very much present and in the moment for each and every second of it.

Her kiss felt exactly like they had last night, except her eyes were closed.

He pushed against her ribs, forcing her back as gently as he could. She might not see it that way, but their conversation had been tender in a way she would never admit to. He couldn't ignore that.

"What's the matter," her eyes narrowed after they blinked open at his move. "Do I have to get you angry first?"

"No," the evidence of his arousal far more than obvious between her legs. "You're hurting." He wouldn't take advantage of that.

Her eye roll was so intense, her entire head rolled back. "So?" She leaned forward again. "Make me forget."

"No," shaking his head, he leaned up and brought her with him until they were both sitting. "Let's spar."

That she didn't say no spoke louder than any answer she could have given and she found herself helping him push the canopy bed against the wall before slipping into the tee shirt he'd been wearing, pushing her hair into a messy ponytail right after. She watched him pull his jeans up over his hips and felt herself grinning when he had trouble buttoning them.

"I could've helped with that, you know." The words felt easy, breaking the strange tension, and they slipped into their kind of banter as he took her through a harsh routine he only ever taught his most advanced students, the senior Aurors and Pats that could handle it. She had to adapt because of her size, but even then she picked it up quickly and made it look easy.

She kept him on his toes. He pushed her into exhaustion. And for the first time, it felt easy to be around one another.

* * *

 _I am now on Tumblr as ladyylla!_


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** It's been exactly one year since I first posted this story. I made a promise that I would finish this fic by Christmas this year. But my pants simultaneously combusted and burned to ash. (nervous laughter) Try to bear with me because this is gearing up to be the longest fic I've written.

Btw **Beth** congratz on your new job! I hope it's killer! Thanks for supporting my fic!

* * *

Chapter Seventeen

(Parkinson vs Longbottom, Round: 2141)

The only reason Neville hadn't left Malfoy Manor yet was because he refused to leave without Pansy. She might have been the one that crawled into his bed the previous night, might even be slowly letting down that icy barrier she liked to keep between them, but he sure as hell couldn't forget the bombshell she dropped about her sister.

It only served to remind him that Pansy kept secrets, her loyalties nowhere close to him. He just couldn't trust that she wouldn't disappear on him. He didn't think she _would_ , not now. Not after what her mother did to Theodore Nott. But he couldn't trust her either. A fact that currently drove him crazy.

At least, after all the sleep he got, he could think straight again.

Which he needed a clear head in order to sit with Narcissa Malfoy, a woman he'd never met before, across from him at the breakfast table. Thin and willowy, Neville thought the woman looked like she would fold under the slightest of pressure. Until she held his gaze without blinking.

"I trust there were no problems with your accommodations last night, Mr. Longbottom?"

He wondered if all the older, Pureblooded women got together when they were young to work on their accents in secret. Even his Gran had spoke with the same quiet, aristocratic cadence. But his Gran never stayed quiet. He missed her.

"No, none. Thank you for putting me up on short notice."

"Of course. Any friend of Draco's is welcome anytime."

Their paths crossed occasionally, but he wasn't sure he could call Malfoy a friend, though he knew Draco and Hermione had become somewhat friendly during their work together. But most everyone at the Offices had a working relationship with the legal department through The Ministry. Of course, that meant everyone knew how devastated Malfoy was, still is, when his wife passed.

If the portrait of Astoria Malfoy along the far wall was any indicator, perhaps Narcissa felt the same.

"She was lovely, my daughter-in-law." Mrs. Malfoy said softly, following his eyes. "She brought great joy to my son."

Neville thought their conversation might seem cordial, but he found himself sitting up a little straighter, paying attention to each of her words.

"Astoria and Ms. Parkinson were good friends as well."

She was trying to figure out his intentions towards _Pansy?_ Neville rose from his seat and walked to the wall, looking at the portrait of Astoria and Draco. He assumed it had been painted on their wedding day, based on the fine dress robes and the frilly white dress the couple wore. The portrait was a masterpiece, no doubt about it, but the smaller picture frame sitting on the table against the wall drew his eye more than any other picture.

Pansy, wearing a long purple gown that could almost be described as modest. She danced with a miniature version of herself, only Posy had golden blonde hair where Pansy's seemed raven black against her pale skin. They both smiled at the one who took the picture, two pairs of indigo and blue colored eyes that seemed far brighter than the twinkling lights in the background.

"A favorite of mine," Narcissa spoke softly, suddenly standing right beside him, her long fingers stroking the glass.

He didn't jump, just held the frame out for her. "I've never seen her like this."

"How do you see her?" The words may have sounded like polite conversation, but he knew better.

He set the picture down and turned to look Narcissa full on. It wouldn't be appropriate to tell the leader of the Malfoy family, a woman with connections, wealth, and power, a woman who seemed to care deeply for Pansy Parkinson, the honest answer to her question. That Pansy managed to simultaneously invoke lust _and_ violence in him, until he wanted to bloody them both before taking her to the ground, spreading her legs, and pounding her as hard as he could.

Instead he said, "Like that diamond she lifted in Rome." Brutal, hard, and ice cold. _The Dolce Mela_ , so whimsically named because of its shape, was a thing of power. Sure, the jewel was beautiful, but anyone who looked at its faceted and flawless edges would see first the unvarnished power held within its depths.

His answer made the edges of Narcissa Malfoy's lips lift in a smile.

"I met her once," Neville told her, referring to Astoria as they returned to their seats at the breakfast table, holding Narcissa's chair out for her. "She told me a joke about a hippogriff."

"Oh? Go ahead." Narcissa said expectantly, taking her seat.

"Why did the blind hippogriff fall into the well?"

"Because he couldn't see that well." Pansy said loudly from the doorway. "Also, I told that joke to Tory."

She swept into the room with a flair of dramatics he was way more accustomed to seeing from her, something he'd rather see than that trembling lip he'd witnessed far too many times in the last day. She wore leather pants tucked into her boots, and a black caped tunic with the hood pulled down.

"Feeling any better?" he asked, eyeing up the thick braids on either side of her head.

"Much, thanks to the generosity of Mrs. Malfoy's closet."

"I knew I'd have something to suit your particular needs," Narcissa cooed, Neville thought, in a motherly fashion. "You should come around more often, Pansy. You certainly have a way of making things more lively."

Pansy made a point of hugging the older Malfoy, but her eyes never left Neville. "Draco is ill."

"Yes," Narcissa nodded slightly. "I've had the staff remove all traces of alcohol from the estate."

"Good." Pansy slid into the chair across from Narcissa and immediately to Neville's right, began piling food onto her plate with zeal. "If he gives you any trouble, you can contact me."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary." A pause. "I've also begun arrangements for Mr. Nott's funeral service."

Pansy paused with her fork halfway to her mouth, "No roses. He hates them. Hated them. Get something yellow, something bright."

His fingers reached out before he realized and tugged on the braid just below her ear. "Eat up, Parkinson."

She glared at him, but he continued speaking. "Then we can go punch each other."

oOo

Pansy stopped in front of Les and smirked, knowing the young Auror was suffering from a small crush on her. His wide brown eyes lit up at the sight of her. "You look so much better!"

"Well, thanks a lot for that Les." She glared at him. She hadn't looked _that_ terrible yesterday. Though, she had to admit just how much better she felt. Instantly in love with the all black tunic Narcissa lent her, it managed to fit her tight curves just right. Black twine laced up the front leather which plumped her breasts up, the cuffs ruffled at the end of her sleeves, a cape that came down to just below her hips, and a hood that could easily cover her face. It checked all her boxes.

But that wasn't all. Because she'd sparred with a certain Auror and it had been far better for her emotional stability than she thought it would be.

"Oh I just meant -" Les flushed. "You know…"

"What's the matter Les? Cat got your tongue?" Neville asked as he walked by them and into his office, the look he sent her… pure male arrogance. The same look he'd been giving her all day, she knew it was meant to act as a distraction. To keep her from thinking too hard about Theo.

Still, this kitten shit had to end. "You son of a -"

"You know if he's bothering you, you could… you know… tell me about it.." Les continued to flush as he forced the words out. "I can take care of that for you." He coughed. "Maybe afterward we could… go to dinner or something… coffee... "

"Lester Hastings to the rescue?" Pansy purred, leaned against the door frame to Neville's office, half in and half out. She shot Neville a smirk before forcing her face into seriousness when she looked back at Les. She couldn't help but tease the man who had balls enough to ask her out. "Well yeah, Neville _is_ bothering me. What are you going to do about it?"

"No-" a cough. "No problem." Les cracked his knuckles, stretched his shoulders as if preparing for a fight. "I'm an Auror. I can take on Neville. Longbottom… strongest Auror in the department..."

"Hastings?" Neville called from his office.

"Yeah?"

"Go get that info you dug up on Greengrass."

"Right away," Les scuttled off quickly.

She stayed in her place, laughing, and leaning against the door frame. She pulled out a cigarette, thinking of the last time she did so. "Got a light?"

"Yeah - so do you." He paused the search of his desk and files to give her a look, clearly remembering how he once crowded her against his office wall, and used the tip of his wand to light her cigarette. It had been a struggle, but he'd finally given in to her that day. His eyes flashed briefly before he continued his search. "Wanna explain how you can do magic so easily, but choose not to?"

"Nope." She winked at the group of Pats that walked by, all of them giving her a wide berth. "How long before this Pancetta gets here?"

"Franzetta. She'll be here in about 10 minutes."

"Ohh, what can we do in 10 minutes?"

"Nothing that you have in mind," he slammed the drawer shut, holding a file that had Annie Stokes's name on it. He grabbed his Aurors Robes off the back of the door and pushed his arms through the sleeves. "Let's get ready. As soon as Fran is gone, we'll want to find out whatever info Les managed to dig up on Greengrass."

"Let's go talk to Rowe." The wolf had had plenty of time for the Glimmer to get out of his system.

He agreed, and she found herself standing with both Neville and Harry Potter in front of what looked like a reinforced silver and steel jail cell, its only occupant a very disheveled David Rowe. Harry swore the wolf refused to talk to anyone, but was willing to let Pansy try.

"Davey," Pansy pressed herself against the bars to show she wasn't afraid of him. "My mother do that to you?"

The Glim burns up his arm looked far worse than usual, deep circles underneath his eyes, and scratches everywhere she looked. Little trembles shook his fingers as he rubbed his face. His eyes darted between the two men behind her.

"They stay Davey, now talk, or I'll come in there and make you talk."

His voice was raspy and overused when he spoke. "Yeah. I'm sorry, Pan-Pan."

She laughed at the nickname the wolves liked to call her and knew, at least for now, he wasn't under the effect of any Glimmer. Then the laughter faded away when she remembered the gunfire at the club. "Is Marcus alive?

Rowe leaned forward, bracing himself on his knees. "I don't know… I think so. I'm sorry I almost shot you."

"I'll get you back for that later, let's talk about my mother."

"A lot of the dealers knew she was up to something with the Greengrass girl, but we didn't want to start a fight until we knew what exactly she was doing. Then we noticed a few of the regulars had gone missing."

"Regulars? What regulars?" Neville asked from behind her. She wanted to turn around and tell him to shut his mouth but then she remembered all those names on his board.

"Just some girls," Rowe looked to Pansy, his face all the more blotchy and red. "You know, wolf-whores. They hung out at Dread or came to the revels looking for Glim and company."

"You have any names, Davey?" she asked, only for Neville's sake.

"I don't know, Jo, Colette. Marie. Those were the ones Sarah and Kath noticed anyways. Vistain didn't know anything about it. So, Kath started looking into it."

His voice cracked then, the frame of his body suddenly racked with trembles as he started sobbing. "They took Kath and Sarah, so I tried to find them, I couldn't find them! I couldn't find my mate!"

Pansy suddenly had a very clear view of Neville's case. Girls going missing? It wouldn't matter if they were drug addicts or not, Sarah Whittler wouldn't stand by and watch them go missing. Neither would Kath. The sisters were the kind of people who took in a tiny wolf and made sure she would be safe against the bigger, nastier wolves that would take advantage of an otherwise helpless girl. So they investigated on their own and got caught up in whatever her mother was planning, found themselves in trouble.

"Give me some names, Davey. Do you know who took them?" Pansy hit the bars. "My mother?"

Neville stepped forward, "They took Sarah and Katherine at the same time, Rowe? Because I found Katherine a month before we found Sarah."

She heard what he said. _He_ found Kath, but _they_ found Sarah. She hadn't realized he'd personally found one of the victims. Of course that was only second to what Neville meant to convey.

"C'mon Rowe, you know what that means," he continued. "They held Sarah for a month longer than the other girls, don't you know the things they did to her? To her and Katherine?"

"Stop," hearing Neville's words had him gasping, but he broke. Rowe told them, "Vistain told me it was Pearl, I found out she was working on Glim experiments with Greengrass and that's why they'd been taking the girls. They're just… test subjects."

It took everything Pansy had not throw up right then and there. Just when she thought Pearl couldn't sink any lower, the woman found a way to prove Pansy wrong. Experimenting with Glimmer on innocents, putting them through the absolute worst experience possible... Her stomach heaved, but she kept steady.

"Those women were raped and beaten to death," Neville started.

"So there's another man involved." Pansy finished for him. Pearl wouldn't have lifted a finger on any of those girls, she didn't like to get her hands dirty.

"I know it was the Barton's. I saw Emily with Pearl, she wanted her family to get in on the new Glimmer before the Vistain's or the Fawley's could. I saw them with her brother."

"Marcus?" Pansy asked.

"No, the other one."

And Pansy knew Marcus had definitely been trying to protect someone when her and Neville questioned him at the club, her guess most likely his brother. Sean Barton. But Pansy just couldn't see it, Sean and Marcus had grown up wild and untamed, yet completely spoiled by their mother. It gave them a soft spot when it came to women. Pansy knew Marcus better, but what she knew of Sean, he'd started seeing Neva Fawley despite their families hostilities towards each other and more, Pansy had seen for herself how much they adored each other regardless of their rival families…

She couldn't picture Sean Barton doing the kind of damage that had been done to the victims of Neville's case.

"So after you shot up the club, what happened?" Neville asked.

"I shot at Pearl, but I think I missed. Her wolves took me down, I blacked out. When I came to, she was giving me Glimmer. And I-" he paused, his eyes widening in horror. "I couldn't say no to her, whatever she asked."

"Damn it, Davey. You know better than that!"

"I accepted it, Pansy. I didn't let her force it on me. She told me to rape you… and I would have, if your friends hadn't stopped me, I would have ripped you into pieces… like what was done to Sarah..." The man's eyes filled with another wave of tears, and then he truly broke, curling into a ball on his cot and giving into the uncontrollable sobs he'd been holding back.

"What?" She stepped back and looked to Harry and Neville, a horrible, sinking feeling in her stomach and not because Rowe referred to Harry Potter and Ron Weasley as _her_ friends.

"What does that mean?" Neville asked, turning to look at her. It said a lot, how scared he looked.

"That's not possible…" Pansy shook her head, unbelieving of the words Rowe spoke. But what reason would he have to lie now? His mate, dead. And it sounded as if Vistain hung him out to dry. The Barton's clearly had no allegiance to him, since they were the ones that dropped Rowe off at The Offices. Was it possible her mother managed figure out a way to control people on Glim? Even if she didn't force them to take the Glim?

And far more sickening was the fact that _her own mother_ commanded David to come for Pansy. And rape her.

"Parkinson, what does that mean?" Neville asked again.

"It means my mother is about to take over the wolves," she placed a hand over her heart, attempting to calm its harsh thumping.

"Parkinson-"

"Fight first. Talk later." She walked by him and a strangely silent Harry and still, she couldn't wrap her around the situation.

"Talk now. Fight later," he insisted, once they were walking down the hallway and Harry stopped to talk to the guard tasked with guarding the cell.

The fight. That was exactly what she needed at that moment. Because she trusted Neville, trusted him not to trap her, or hurt her, or take pleasure in her pain. She would so much rather fight him, with his honorable, pure heart, than continue to learn these despicable things about Pearl, her own mother. She needed that in her corner, needed _him_ in her corner, because Pansy begun to suspect that Pearl no longer had any limits to the horrible things she'd do just to get what she wanted. She turned abruptly and Neville almost walked into her, her smirk telling him that's exactly what she intended. "Fight now, fuck later?"

"Oh no, you'd like that too much," he grabbed the back of her head. "Stop yanking my chain."

Her fingers immediately came up to wrap around his wrist. "Let go of me, or there won't be any chain left to yank."

But he held on for another long second, his fingers digging into her hair with a roughness that was all Neville. She enjoyed it, her body already coming to expect nothing but heady, unrestrained pleasure when it came to the man that stood before her. More, she'd already admitted to him what Jac had done with the Glimmer. The way he used it to make her want him, her mind not understanding why the Glimmer made her body want to _obey_ when the rest of her wanted to run away to the ends of the earth.

She'd told Neville that truth while they stood his bathroom, with her wearing his shirt, after a night of unparalleled pleasure. He just hadn't connected the dots yet.

She lifted her hand and placed it over his, the one holding her head, and dug into the fingers. "Release me."

He did so, slowly, though his eyes made it very clear he wasn't backing down. "You know what that man did to me, with the Glim." He nodded. "Rowe is saying Pearl can do it without forcing it."

"Anyone who takes her Glim, they'll do whatever she says?" He shook his head, as disbelieving as she'd been.

Then she realized… "Perhaps even rape and torture a woman." Her words had the impact of a bomb dropping. She couldn't see Sean Barton committing such an awful act, but if Pearl _forced him to_...

"We have to stop her," Neville told her quietly. "For those girls."

"I promised I would help you find the killer," she reached up to smooth out the lapel on his dark red Auror's robes, enjoying that they both dressed for their respective roles. Him in his official robes, looking rather sharp and put together despite his beard that needed trimming, and her, in the dramatic black tunic with its hood and cape, her dagger at her hip like the wand on his. But before she could continue, Les waved them down from the end of the hall.

"Psst - Hey! LB! Bobbi just went to escort Franzetta, you two ready?"

"LB," she smirked. "Don't pull any punches."

"I never do." He returned the smirk. "With you."

 _Fuck_ , he made her toes curl.

oOo

Bobbi wasn't sure what the hell she was doing, playing along with this disaster of a plan. But even she could admit, if a little girl's life depended on them putting on a little show for the press, then the little show must go on.

Especially when Harry informed her exactly what kind of person they were dealing with when it came to Pearl Parkinson. And if this woman was behind the wolf murders, then Bobbi wanted her locked up at the very least. Dead in the ground if not, because Bobbi didn't fuck around with criminals. Especially if she also happened to be behind the huge amounts of Glimmer flooding the wolf population lately.

After this whole thing was over, she was sticking Neville on desk duty for a month.

But for now, she greeted her old school friend Fran with a wave and a hug and showed her The Office, pointing out the staircase to the training room, their jail cells, and introducing her to all the personnel on the way. Fran thought she was doing an expose piece on the department, just enough of a hook to get her on site. Because not much was known about the Auror department since it separated from the Ministry.

Bobbi, and Harry, preferred it that way.

But her friend had no idea the kind of juicy scene they were putting on for her.

Just as they turned down the hallway that led to Bobbi's office, Neville's office door detached from the wall with a giant wallop of sound. It crashed into the far hallway wall and broke into large chunks.

Bobbi wrapped her hand around Fran's upper arm, stopping them both in their tracks. The man carrying the large camera behind them immediately brought it up.

Just in time for Neville's body to come flying into the hallway, his robes fluttered in the air.

He smashed into the door that had previously crashed into the wall, his head hitting the hard surface with a bang. It didn't slow him down even a second. He was up and moving towards Pansy as she flew at him, their hands coming out in a quick dance of movement that had Franzetta shouting, "ARE YOU GETTING THIS?!" at her cameraman. "Wait, is that _Pansy Parkinson!?"_

People poked their heads out of their offices and crowded the ends of the hallway to watch. The thief wore a black hood, but as she moved against Neville, the two of them locked in a deadly dance of blows, it fell to her shoulders revealing her face to the entire audience almost as if she planned it.

Hand to hand combat was a specialty of Neville's, but with his super strength, he'd adapted his training and taken it to a whole other level. But Parkinson was _fast._ Bobbi could only just see their movements as they slowly worked their way down the tiny hallway, the both of them using whatever means necessary to best each other.

Swing.

Miss.

Dodge.

 _Hit._

Blood bloomed crimson on Neville's nose but he didn't waste a moment to wipe it away, instead moving as if to swing at Pansy's right, his left hand came up and grabbed at the tight Dutch braid on Parkinson's head. He gripped tight and slammed her face first into the wall.

She took it and swung out of his grip, kicking out in a perfect spin.

Strangely, Bobbi thought the faux fight would have her rolling her eyes just like Neville liked to do, but she realized quickly there was nothing fake about this fight. Even as Les and the others cheered from the sidelines, the Pats all heavily rooting for Neville. Ron and Connor stood on the other side of the hallway, her husband swinging his fists as if to mimic the punches being thrown and Ron yelling obscenities that would make Hermione frown.

No, there was nothing fake about the fight.

And Neville wasn't pulling a single one of his super strength punches, if Parkinson didn't dodge fast enough Bobbi didn't see how the thief would survive. When Les got too close, Pansy knocked the man into Neville and kicked Les straight in the stomach. He went flying back and took Neville with him.

She turned to run at her and Fran, and seemingly for the elevator, but Neville rolled over Les and grabbed onto Pansy's ankle. It was a testament to her agility that she didn't fall over, instead spinning with her other foot to kick Neville right in his face. He let go and she landed on both feet.

Bobbi brought her hand up to cover her mouth, unprepared for them to actually fight it out. Of course, she shouldn't have been. She knew better than to think anything remotely _functional_ would happen between Neville Longbottom and Pansy Parkinson. How on earth could two people, two people who were sleeping together, could go around and beat each other up for fun was beyond her.

Neville shook off the kick, jumped up, and slammed Pansy into the wall. He spun her in a dazzling burst of speed and then used his body to press her into that wall. "You-" he slammed both her wrists against the wall, "are under-" he kicked her feet apart and pinned her legs with his knees. "- _arrest!"_

Like any good fight, it was over quickly. But again, Bobbi should've known better. Pansy had simply made it look as if she'd lost, even frowning over her shoulder when Neville slapped her wrists in cuffs.

All to save one little wolf.

Bobbi felt the smidgen of respect bloom for the thief where before there was none, but she really did roll her eyes when Neville pushed a bloody Parkinson past them going towards the cells, purposely giving Fran and her camera guy a wonderful close up.

She turned toward Fran, "Would you like to see the rest of the Offices?"

oOo

"Don't enjoy yourself too much, Longbottom." Pansy gasped as he forcefully pushed her into an empty cell, her heart thumping wildly from their fight.

"I've been dreaming of this moment for years." He didn't care that it was all for show, he leaned against the barred door and crossed his arms, watching her slowly turn around in the cell, wearing handcuffs, bloody, looking murderous, and he enjoyed every last second of it.

"So, you finally have me in cuffs. What are you going to do with me?" She completed her turn and pinned him with her gaze. She'd gotten him good in the nose, his poor abused nose. She kind of wanted to do it again, but she also kind of wanted to kiss it better.

"I'm tempted to lock the door, walk away, and throw the key in the river."

She gave a slow smile as she walked towards him, sliding up right against the hard plane of his chest. "But how would you get back in?" she purred.

He knew better than answer that question. "There's a slot for food, don't worry."

She turned again, not bothering to put any space between them as she did, and pressed her back against his front. Neville looked down at the top of her head and felt her hands press against the front of his pants. "I guess if you're not going to uncuff me…"

Damn, naughty woman. Her fingers roamed and pressed against him, but he reigned in the urge play along, to grip the back of her head and suck on the part of her neck that made her moan. Instead he held still and listened. He heard the _snick_ of metal and she turned, hands free, holding the open cuffs up for him. "I'll just do it myself."

"You should have done that seconds faster." He knew he shouldn't have been teasing her, not with the seriousness of Annie's situation looming over them, but she went out of her way to get David Rowe to remember those names. The names of the girls on his list. She didn't have to do that. And that fucking smile she was giving him.

Pumped up from their fight and heart still racing, he leaned in closer. "Were you distracted?"

Dropping the cuffs to the floor carelessly she stepped right up to him and cocked her head. And, this close, where he didn't have to focus on making sure she didn't take off his head, his nose picked up the scent coming from her neck. He moved before he could stop himself, burying his nose into her long neck, feeling her muscle go taut there.

He let out a ragged breath. "You think you can manipulate me?"

"I know I can," her words whispered into his ear and he could feel her lips tilt up even further. "But that wasn't the goal. That is just… for you." Just one of the many perfumes Narcissa Malfoy had.

Every muscle in his body turned to stone. For she smelled like she usually did, leather and steel, the scent as hard as she, but the perfume on her neck smelled of birch water and it absolutely floored him. He pushed her backwards until they hit the bars of the cell, his hands cupping underneath her thighs before he was aware of moving.

Her head slammed back as he lifted her, pinned her to the bars with brute force. She reached up and grabbed a hold of those bars by wrapping her fingers around them, arching her back slightly as her knees bent around his waist. She didn't see it as giving in to him, because she knew he'd give in to her just as much. Her coat spread out on either side of her and she couldn't help her husky voice. "Come here Neville Longbottom, let me show you how a kiss should taste."

"Keep your eyes open," the growl was her only warning before his lips crashed into hers. So good, _yet so bad_ , he didn't hold back as he devoured her mouth in a demanding, ruthless kiss. She could feel his beard rubbing harshly into her skin as he pressed her firmly into the bars behind them, and her body screamed at her for more.

"You could have -" he bit into her bottom lip, interrupting her words. "- had me last night."

His hands dug into her thighs so hard she gasped. His breath brushed over her swollen lips when he spoke, "I may not be as nice as I used to be, but I wouldn't take advantage of a woman that way, not even you."

 _Not even you_. She let go of the bars and grabbed at his shoulders. "After we find Annie, I'm taking you someplace where we can be all alone."

"My friends will come rescue me," he grinned wickedly. Though, looking down at her now, he thought he'd rather not be rescued from that particular situation.

"I'll make sure none of your pesky Gryffindor friends can find us," her words were a threat, plain and simple. But they heated his body like no other, and he realized then that no woman had ever affected him in such a way before.

oOo

Les gave them a piece of paper on which showed a map of the Port of London, which stretched and twisted out all along the river with many individual docks and terminals. Les had circled a section in red ink, a private wharf which had recently switched ownership to Garrett Buchanan but previously had been owned by Nathan Nicholls.

Daphne's second husband.

It would have been smart, because there weren't many who knew of Buchanan's relationship to Daphne. Glorified lackey didn't register to many people and Pansy only knew because of Draco, through Tory. If magic cooperated, it would be nothing to point the authorities in the other direction, and then Daphne had a safe place to ship her product. Legal or otherwise. If magic didn't cooperate, they were sitting on a pile of Glimmer that could compel.

Les, proving to be the sharpest researcher, found a ship that had been docked at the wharf only two nights ago and hadn't moved since. There was no proof Annie had been taken to that ship, or that it was connected to her abduction at all. But, other than her company's office, there was no other property directly connected to her they could suss out.

"We're going to snoop around a bit, Les. You watch our back," Neville said as they walked the docks. Les walked on her right, wearing tight black jeans and a long sleeved black shirt that stretched over his arms tightly. Pansy wouldn't mind the view, except Neville walked to her left. He'd ditched the Auror robes and instead thrown on his leather jacket over his tee shirt and jeans. She didn't bother to hide her appreciative glances either.

Anytime she spent more time staring at Neville, Les managed to 'accidentally' bump into her or walk a little further into her line of sight. She didn't stop herself from giving him a flirty smile until they came just into sight of the ship.

"I'll send up fireworks if I sense danger for you two," Les flashed Pansy a wide smile before he split off in the other direction. The dock here forked, the path splitting in a wide arch until it met again about half a mile down the river. Les went the long way, armed with his wand and a pair of binoculars.

Neville however led her down the other way, the both of them observing the hustle and bustle of the docks and its workers before spotting a secluded spot between two piles of boxed cargo goods where they could watch the ship and figure out the best way to sneak on board.

They both had a set of small binoculars, watching the ship with sharp eyes. She expected quiet from him, but then he said, "I know you won't back out because your mother had a hand in this."

He said it so casually, she had to wonder what he meant by it. Then he continued. "I just want to know if you can deal if I arrest your mother?"

She braced her hands against the tall box in front of her, and laughed.

The sound so foreign to him, he couldn't help but swivel around to look. Even though he had no idea why she found his question funny, he took the moment to appreciate the laugh that sounded as husky as her voice.

"I won't," she said when her laughter died down. "I won't let you arrest her."

Frowning down at her he said, "You would allow her to go free even after all she's done?"

That did _not_ sound like the Pansy Parkinson he knew, but then again, he had little to no knowledge of her relationship with Pearl Parkinson. It all came down to those loyalties he'd been thinking of at Malfoy Manor, but he had been sure they were on the same page.

Turns out, he was further off base than he thought. "The opposite actually, for what she did to Theo… and what she's doing to my baby sister, if I get the chance," Pansy's smile faded completely and she looked him dead in the eye. "I'll kill her."

"No," he shook his head. "You're no murderer."

She put her binoculars up to her eyes, looking out to the ship trying to spot any movement. "We both know that's not true."

"What you did to Moreau, that was self defense. You were saving your own life." He argued for her, she wouldn't forget. Perhaps he was trying to see light in her when there was none. But it didn't change cold hard fact.

"I stabbed him in the chest, my blade soaked in his heartsblood for hours. Self defense or not, I killed him and I would do it again." She met his eyes. "Would you stop me?"

"From killing Moreau? No. I won't let you become a cold blooded killer though. You're better than that."

"You sound sure."

"I am." He nudged her then. "Look familiar?"

She pushed aside the strange and unfamiliar sensation in her chest and peered through her binoculars. The ship in question wasn't that big, with dirty lettering on the side, ' _Adelaide'_ , that told her they had the right ship. But her eyes went to the two people walking from the top cabin along the port side of the ship towards the back end. One was definitely a man, and his giant form made it impossible to see the other person.

"No, but I've never met Buchanan. Daphne and I have never gotten along." Pansy continued to watch the men as they walked the length of the ship before finally disappearing below.

"But you took a job from her?"

She shrugged, "Money is money."

"You and Astoria Greengrass were close though, was that because of your friendship with Malfoy?"

"No, but it definitely helped. Tory and I just understood each other better than most…" because like Pansy, Tory hadn't been the favorite daughter either. She looked at him suddenly. "Why am I telling you all my secrets?"

Neville didn't move or take his eyes off the ship in front of them, his face kept the same watchful expression, but she could tell his thoughts turned gentle. Then he said, "Because there's one less person in the world that knows them."

 _Woosh._ Air, all gone. Just like that. She couldn't possibly talk about Theo, not then, so she kept her thoughts firmly on her sister. "My first plan had been to buy Posy, offer enough money that the deal wouldn't be refused."

"You're kidding, Parkinson. She's a person not a house elf."

"She's a wolf, and my mother wouldn't say no to that much money," she explained. "She's too... greedy."

"You know what my question is? Your mother sent Rowe to harm and violate you, why have you just let your younger sister stay with her all this time? Pearl doesn't sound like the kind of woman who would raise a child. I'd imagine you would have gone and gotten her a long time ago. Why not go right now?"

"There's a big difference between Posy and myself, Longbottom. Besides age. Perhaps something has changed in the last year, but... my mother loves Posy."

"But not you?" Neville sounded as if he didn't believe her. And most people wouldn't, because what kind of mother doesn't love their child? Pansy knew exactly the type, and she wished she didn't. "If she loved Posy, she wouldn't have locked her up."

"I'm sure you had a plump little mum that tucked you in at night and kissed all your tears away, but not me. Pearl was abusive when I was younger, until my father stepped in. Then she kept her hands to herself, but that didn't stop the verbal abuse she loved to dish out. When Posy was born, I came home to meet her and I…"

She trailed off, remembering that summer three years after Spain. She spent day after day since gaining muscle, training, crawling for even an iota of control. She'd known right away that her already hard heart had frozen solid by that point and truly expected to feel nothing for the late in life child her parents had been surprised with. They were 21 years apart, what on earth would they have in common? It wasn't as if Pansy planned to spend much time in England. A formal meeting, that's all. Then she'd take off and get back to her life.

But then she met Posy. Only a month old, wrapped in a purple blanket that matched her eyes, she'd peered up to Pansy and smiled a huge, toothless grin that knocked the air right out of her. Suddenly the years didn't matter, Pansy had found herself completely in love with her baby sister who grew into a gentle, happy child. A child who acted nothing like Pearl _or_ Pansy.

Neville's fingers suddenly wrapped around her wrist, pulling her finger from her lip where she'd been unconsciously rubbing at. "I kept an eye out on my mother, to make sure she wouldn't harm Posy the way she'd once done to me. But she never did. Never said a mean thing to her." Pearl flat out _adored_ Posy. "Even when the epidemic first broke out, and Posy was turned, my mother still loved her. I thought she was safe."

Neville dropped her wrist and looked away, staying silent for a several minutes as they watched the ship. "You still didn't answer my other question. Why not go and grab her now? You know, do that thing you do so well?"

There was no point in lying, he would know anyways. "I can't step foot in my childhood home. It's warded against me."

She waited for the pity, for the sympathy that came with that admission. Her mother didn't want her around. The very moment Tarrant Parkinson went into the ground, Pansy had been blocked from entering her home. Not many knew that secret.

But instead of pity she got: "Neither of us will stop until we get your mother."

It wasn't a question but she answered anyways. "No."

"If you kill her, you'll be in jail for the rest of your life…" he said as if he were explaining something important to her.

Pansy blinked, and understood that he would arrest her in an instant if she murdered her mother in cold blood, murdering, torturing drug dealer or not. And, for the first time, she also understood that such an action would leave Posy all alone. An unacceptable outcome. She blew out a breath of frustration. "I can get on that ship, lower the gangway for you."

But he shook his head right away, jumping subjects with her just as easily. "Only seen two people, but there could be a lot more than that below deck."

"All right, I'll go and do a little recon."

She waited for him to shake his head no again, which she would then ditch him and go do what she did best, but he only gave her a slow, considering look. "If you get caught you'll have no back up."

"Ha," she pulled her hood up over her head, shrouding her face in shadow. "You know better than anyone that I only get caught when I want to be."

Neville blinked once and she melded into the darkness, missing when his lips turned up in a slow smile.

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 _I am now on Tumblr as LadyYlla!_


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N** : This chapter contains blood, violence, attempted rape, and murder. You know, the usual. Proceed with caution. I've been writing a lot to distract myself from life and I'm several chapters ahead now. (yay!) I'm also trying very much to finish my other WIP so I can go hard on Spellthief and my next Pansy/Neville. (yay! More Pansy/Neville!) I'd say that this fic is about... halfway complete? Maybe? Actually no comment. Thanks everyone for the reviews on my last chapter!

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 **Chapter** **Eighteen**

(When confronted with an Angry Italian, please use wild hand gestures)

Pansy crept closer to the ship, confident in her boots that she made no sound, her black tunic turning her into a shadow among shadows. This, _this,_ is what she was made to do. She paused only a few feet away from where the boat docked, pressing herself against the base of a crane used to move large cargo boxes off and onto ships.

 _Adelaide_ at first glance looked to be about 25 feet long, a cargo boat with a small raised cabin at the front. She didn't see any movement in that cabin. But large crates stacked towards the back keeping her from being certain the top deck was empty of people, however she could be silent and nearly invisible when she wanted to. A quick look around was all she needed. Unfortunately there was no obvious way to board the ship with the gangway pulled up as it was.

Then she felt it.

The softest of movements in the air behind her. She dodged to the side as a fisted hand swung just where her head had been only a split second before, her own body responding immediately. Muscle memory had her arm coming up, gripping the wrist of that hand, yanking it hard as she spun until a black clad body she had once been very familiar with was pressed into the cold metal of the crane. She dug her fingers into Armand's face, pinning him further with her knees.

Italian flowed from her tongue as if she'd hadn't spent years away from the only place she'd ever considered home. "You forget who trained you, Armand."

He responded in the same tongue, his dark lips curving maliciously. "It isn't I who has forgotten, _il mio fiore viola_."

God. Damned. _Italians._

Only one had ever called her by such an affectionate name, and it certainly hadn't been _Armand_ , her once hot headed student. Memories of the Academy rushed back at her with his nearness, the place where she'd taken the physical training she learned from Tony and applied it to the more tricky skills of her current profession.

"I am not your flower, never have been, never will be." She dug her chipped fingernails further into the skin of his face, relishing in the hiss of pain he released but remaining wary of her surroundings. She didn't make the mistake of thinking he'd be without his team. She'd spent far too long in Sera's inner court to know better.

Armand would not confront her alone. Seraphina did not raise fools, her subjects trained to work together, partners, as a family. For the family. Always. There was a reason Pansy did not fit in there. But she hadn't left, at least... not until Sera betrayed her.

"Maybe not, Pansy," he said in heavily accented English. "But I came here for my Queen and I won't leave without what's due."

She laughed. She couldn't help it. What bullshit, complete _bull_ shit. He came for a fight. Pure and simple. "What's due? What you're looking for is probably at the bottom of the East China Sea. I know it, you know it, and most importantly, _her highness_ knows it too. Why are you really here, and how did you find me?"

"Let go and maybe I shall answer your questions." Honey dripped from his lips. She'd done a lot more than give Armand his physical training, she'd taught him about charm too.

"Your words sound sweet but your shoulders are tense and…" she glanced down. "Your feet still point in the direction you intend to go," she released his face but kept him pinned. "Now tell me where your team is, or I will reintroduce you to my favorite blade."

He sighed with a flare of drama, and she watched as his shoulders relaxed before her very eyes. Always the student. "I left them to go watch the hospital. St. Mungo's. We'd spotted you there once already, I figured it was worth a little of my time since we lost track of you after the shooting at that wolf club."

He spat on the ground, his feelings for those wolves plain and clear. "I was just about to leave and reconnect with everyone else when I saw you enter the hospital. But I knew it wasn't you."

That surprised her, but she kept her grip firm. "How?"

He let out a low, sultry laugh. "The person disguised as my Queen's purple flower wasn't wearing those special boots you love so much."

"So observant," but her heart began to race. "You followed them here?"

"Perhaps."

She considered knocking him out and leaving him to wake up on his own for his snide tone, decided the confirmation that Annie had been taken to the _Adelaide_ was worth a little more than that.

"Then perhaps I won't kill you for attempting to hurt me, Armand." She let him up and stepped back several steps, resisting the urge to smile when she spotted Neville waiting patiently behind a row of crates. Smart man, staying hidden. She focused again on Armand, in his crisp suit that didn't even look winked after she'd manhandled him. He cracked his knuckles before leveling a hostile look on her. "Now tell me why you're here."

"I spoke the truth, _donna cattiva._ " His words were rude, but his tone affectionate. "I came for my Queen."

She watched his face carefully as he spoke. "I believe you, but I know she did not send you. Sera would not do that to me." She might've stolen Sera's diamond, a priceless, renowned, intensely magical diamond that had been in the Royal Family for hundreds of years… but Pansy didn't think Sera would hold that much of a grudge.

He hissed again, switching back to Italian, his words heated. "You dare to speak her name?"

His feet pointed directly at her, his loyalty written on his sleeve, but she didn't even move out of the way when he swung at her. Because Neville stepped quickly forward and caught the man's arm, stopping Armand dead in his tracks.

Shocked at his sudden appearance, Armand attempted to counter the move, found himself under the steel strong grip of her partner, the strongest Auror alive. He should have come with his team, then it might've been a real fight. But alone, Armand was simply a cog in the wheel.

She spoke slowly in his language, "I have the right to do so, Armand. You will do well to remember that I earned it. Go back to Rome and stop chasing me because I do not have _The Dolce Mela_ any longer. The next time I see you, your blood will be feeding my blade."

She wasn't sure if Neville understood her, if he spoke Italian or not, but he seemed to read her tone just fine, choosing that moment to drop Armand's hand and flank her side on the right. She enjoyed feeling that explosive heat wafting off him far more than she should've. Armand's dark eyes turned bitter and he spat again, his hand sweeping out in a dramatic gesture. "You betrayed us all, why she suffers you to live, I'll never understand."

"It is not your place to understand, only follow." Pansy pulled her dagger out, running it through her fingers casually.

"You're wrong," he shook his head, but after another long look at her, he finally turned and walked away.

God. Damned. _Italians._

She sighed feeling like she had been punched in the gut and turned towards Neville, who stood waiting patiently for her, his expression entirely unreadable. "Did you hear the bit about him following Annie to the boat?"

His grin was slight, but he didn't say anything, just nodded.

"What, you have nothing to say?" She couldn't help the snappy tone… nor the language she spoke in. She _had to know._

Oh so slowly, he shook his head, his grin widening into a smirk he'd _definitely_ picked up from her. She wanted to smack it right off his face. Growling, she turned to make for the boat, knowing when he fell in line with her yet again, still not saying a single word. Neville Longbottom was the sole person on the planet who saw through her lies. The one person she couldn't trick.

The one person, besides herself, who now knew the truth.

She fingered her pocket restlessly and stopped at the edge of the dock, the water pitch-black in the night. She wanted to dump Longbottom in that damn river and go rescue Annie without him. They'd been spending far too much time together lately.

" _Il mio fiore viola…_ "

She whipped her head around and caught when he pinched his lips as he spoke, trying to hold back laughter.

"Your accent is _terrible_ , Longbottom."

He shrugged, still laughing, "Self taught."

"I can tell. Do you want to find a way on board, or would you rather stand around talking about little purple flowers in Italian all night?"

"There's one I wouldn't mind discussing."

"Fine," she walked away, fists curling as she listened to him speak into his walkie, telling Les they were going on the boat. Maybe she was going on the boat, but first she had to dump him in that cold river and watch him suffer.

She found herself stomping down the dock in a fit of bad temper when she heard him let out a low whistle. Anger prickled across her skin, bumps rising. She turned to flick him off, saw him cup his hands and raise his eyebrow as if in a dare.

Oh, always distracting her, wasn't he? She wouldn't be able to live it down if she didn't accept his wordless challenge.

Cocking a grin, she took off at a run, jumping up as high as she could, and sliding her foot into his cupped hands just when he pushed up. His strength launched her through the air on a rush of breath, briefly feeling as if she could spread her arms and fly away, before she came down and clutched the edge of the boat with her fingers. She swung herself and flowed over the railing, coming to a low crouch as she looked around.

Neville landed next to her only a moment later, to her surprise, and they began to search the top deck. Her only fear was the state they might find Annie in. Surviving that torture pit once registered as a miracle in Pansy's opinion, surviving the same captors again? Pansy had zero problems knocking around a few drug dealers in order to save Annie, she just worried if Annie would see it as a rescue.

And if Pansy happened to run into Daphne Greengrass, Astoria be damned, she would shove that two-faced bint over the edge of the boat after giving her a beating just short of death.

But the top deck proved empty, as well as the two dark rooms below. Neville took the metal stairs down into the engine room and Pansy found herself running her fingers over the crates piled up in the far room.

With a flap of sound, she pulled the dark cloth covering the boxes and dropped it carelessly to the side. Her eyesight had adjusted to the darkness the moment they came down the stairs, but she couldn't make out the words printed along the crate's sides. Her cell phone was probably still on the floor at Neville's destroyed house and only god knew where the hell her wand ended up.

But she didn't need light to figure out what was in the crates. As soon as she lifted the edge of the top most box, a caustic rush of burnt magic and something far more vile than she'd ever before experienced filled her nose and she barely resisted the urge to throw up. Slamming the lid down, she turned to find Neville and inform him of the massive amount of Glimmer Daphne had on this boat.

Literally… a boatload of evidence they could use to throw Daphne, and possibly Pearl, into a jail cell.

She took one step before the cloth beside her seemed to flutter.

Turning immediately, Pansy eyed up the wall the crates sat against in interest. Nothing stood out about the dirty wall so she stepped back and looked harder.

No windows.

But the outside of Daphne's little ship did have windows on this level. She stepped forward and ran her fingers along the wall, getting grime and grease on her gloves as she felt along the hard metal. The torture room had been hidden in plain sight, Pansy wouldn't be surprised if -

Her hand disappeared into a fake wall.

"Gotcha." She turned to get Neville, knowing he'd want to know right away, when a scarred and thick hand reached out and pulled her into the wall.

Even knowing she'd rush right through the wall, just like when she'd been young running through the Platform 9 ¾, that she would fall right through it, it was hard not to brace as if she would impact. Because of that little hesitation, she couldn't jump over the leg set out to trip her.

Instead of falling flat on her face, she used the hand pulling her to swing around and slam into her attacker, a large, mostly naked man covered in Glim burns, scars, and blood. His face was horribly distorted, as if he'd been tortured with a thin blade over and over again. But… The frown on his face gave him away.

Like a wolf, he lunged at her putting all his strength into his front. She sidestepped easily and used his own momentum to push him into the wall, face first. The breeze caused by his rush as he went past her brought familiar smells to her nose. Made her gag.

"Sea-"

With far more speed than she expected, he turned and was on her.

She dipped, using the movement to pull two small blades from her boots, and jumped over his leg when he kicked out. The familiar whistling of her blades rushing through the air gave her comfort and confidence both.

But this wolf in human form was almost as fast as her.

Bunched fingers flew into her face once, twice, then she found her breath and dodged. She rolled away and swung, found herself being tackled almost immediately.

And a solid wall of muscle, wolf made muscle, flipped her onto her back, knocking all the air out of her and both her blades away.

"Stop me," a hot breath whispered into her ear right when a knee braced harshly against her middle, pinning her, causing her to cry out in pain. She breathed in a harsh scent of burnt magic and rotting earth. Of Glimmer. And something far worse.

Her fingers grabbed at his head, gripping a handful of hair before she yanked his head back and sent her other elbow right into Sean Barton's once handsome nose. Drops of blood rained down on her face but she could only focus on the beating he was dishing out, on his hand that was attempting to choke her.

Red creeped into her vision, _no one pinned her_ … with exactly one exception. His name was Neville Longbottom and only if he happened to be rocking her to orgasm.

"Stop me, Pan-Pan…" he said again, his tone pleading but his actions said otherwise. He finished wrapping a hand around her throat and lifted up, bringing his fist straight into her face once again.

Her vision went spotty and her hand came to his face, digging into his skin. The other pulled hair from his head before she realized what his intentions for her were. His mouth attached to her neck and not in the happy fun way she preferred. Teeth elongated and sank beneath her skin.

Screaming out, she sent her other hand between them, allowing her body to go slack as if she were submitting. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of her dagger as Sean kept one hand tight around her neck and sent the other down meanly, long nails tearing her tunic into pieces before he ripped at the button of her pants.

Surprise had her gasping more than anything. "What the hell are you doing Sean?" she croaked.

"Pan-Pan, stop me. You're the only one who can. I thought it was a dream, only a dream..." His words were pleading, but the grip on her throat tightened, pinning her to the ground with a strength found only in wolves. She knew him, not nearly as well as Marcus, but she knew Sean. He was not capable of violating a woman. But the nails digging into her lower belly said another thing entirely.

As that thought crossed her mind, along with a million others, another burst of burnt magic hit her nose and she realized the little specks of glitter in her eyes weren't from her head being forcefully banged against the hard floor over and over.

No, it was from the black and glittery shimmer of Sean's normally brown eyes. He was dosed up, and as she now knew, compelled. His words suddenly made sense.

Decision made in a split second, she moved her dagger the moment he lifted to bang her against the ground again. It slid into his belly without an ounce of resistance, splitting his skin, shearing into his organs. She jerked her dagger up until it hit his sternum bone, blood spilled from him and onto her bare stomach, the hot drops instantly turning into ice as they fell. The bone split and she pulled her blade from his chest.

His hand tightened once before releasing her throat, and she shoved her dagger right into his heart. "I'm sorry, Sean."

A wave of peace ribboned over his face. "Tell Neva I'm sorry," his voice cracked but he sounded relieved, falling to her side.

Pansy pushed all her shock into a small corner where she could deal with it later and rolled the opposite way, and up onto her feet, dagger out as she took a look around the room.

A tiny voice whispered into her mind, _murderer._

Well… she usually enjoyed proving Neville Longbottom wrong.

Annie Stokes lay tied up in the corner, her eyes wide as she watched Pansy with fearful eyes. Not surprising, considering Daphne had looked like her when she snatched Annie from St. Mungo's. Casting a wary glance around the room, Pansy quickly came down beside Annie, dagger out.

The battered witch flinched at the sight of the bloody blade and began to shuffle, attempting to get away. Her dark hair hung in clumps, dried blood flaked on her lip and brow. But it was the panic Pansy worried about. It oozed from every part of Annie. From her wide eyes to the wracking tremors in her painfully thin frame as she clumsily slipped and slid in what must have been a pool of her own blood.

Pansy began to speak, to try to comfort her as she stepped back and removed her torn and bloody tunic, pulling it over her head and tossing it into another corner and out of sight completely. Murmuring gentle words at Annie, Pansy also slipped out of her thin black tank top and used the soft cloth to wipe away as much of Sean's blood from her person.

When she returned to Annie's side, her panic had dialed down by a fraction.

Then she went to cut the bindings on Annie's feet, eyeing up the solid iron manacles around her wrists.

"What's with the damn iron again?" Stashing her dagger away, she pulled at the rope around Annie's mouth before taking out her picks.

"Pa-Pansy…" Annie's shakes increased tenfold. "It-it-it's… Dap-Daphne…"

"Yeah I figured that bit out." She spotted the fresh bruises and cuts on Annie, took note of each and every one as the manacles fell to the ground with a loud clang.

"She's-she's-she's behind you!"

Pansy found herself jumping to her feet and twirling around, arms out to protect Annie. Pearls surrounded Daphne's throat, her long blonde locks curled expertly, red painted on her lips. Pansy on the other hand had blood continuing to drip from her nose and lips and crystallized blood had dried and stuck to the skin of her belly.

It didn't bother Pansy one bit, but she might could use her disheveled state against Daphne.

"I must say, I was not expecting you to come out alive after that." As expected, Daphne's eyes dropped to wound Pansy could feel pulsing in her neck.

Pansy wiped the blood off her lip and made a show of pulling out her dagger, her braids bouncing around her shoulders. No one ever thought she would win. That was the point. "Why'd you do it, Daph? Sean was a good boy. He'd never hurt a woman."

Not if he could stop it. She wondered how many of the murder victim's had begged Sean to stop not realizing the man was probably screaming at himself to stop just as much as they?

"That's precisely why I chose him for this experiment." Daphne kept a lot of distance between them letting Pansy know she wasn't completely brain dead. But her words confirmed her theory. The murders weren't just about hurting those women. It'd been a test by Daphne and Pearl to see how much control they gathered from using their new Glim. "We tried to grab Marcus but Emily made sure he was never alone with us, but she left Sean wide open. Those men would never hurt a woman sexually, which made them perfect test subjects."

The fact that Daphne was being extra chatty let Pansy know the woman had no intention of her getting free. "Where's my dear mother, Daph?"

"How should I know?" Daphne smiled a sickly sweet smile at her and faked an elegant shrug. "Perhaps at home, with your sweet little sister."

The thought of this wretch anywhere near Posy had Pansy's boiling, but she forced herself to remain calm. She could handle Daphne all day. "Would you like to hear a little story? My friend David Rowe came to see me today and he was acting so strangely a lot people took notice. People like Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley, and Barbara O'Donnell, and -"

"Neville Longbottom? Your… boyfriend? I'm sorry I'm not sure what he is to you. I can only assume so since the Prophet reported that he threw you in a prison cell and yet… here you are. With him. It's been quite fun, watching him run around in circles trying to find a connection between the girls. Oh, and I suppose I should thank you for further distracting him from his case. He seems to really enjoy chasing you around."

"You better hope he doesn't find you," Pansy decided on a different direction. "Much has changed since school, you know."

"What? His super strength? Sadly that doesn't do anything for his intelligence," Daphne laughed. "And Sean managed to snatch you while he was in the engine room. He'll never find you in here. No one will."

Pansy forced a laugh. If Daphne wanted to think Neville didn't have the brains to back his brawn then that was her mistake. "You think you can beat me in a fight?"

"I know I can, _Pan-Pan_. I know I can." Daphne purposely used the nickname Marcus had affectionately given her one night and it only served to remind her of what she'd done to Sean. The blood on her stomach suddenly felt a lot colder and it urged her to stalk forward.

It would be easy to look at the wolves and see only the bad. Only the violence. But Pansy's life had been violent since the day she met Jacques Moreau and most wolves lived a life nowhere near that violent. People like Neville looked at the revels and saw only an excuse for the wolves to get together and get rowdy, break shit, and hurt each other. Those people didn't understand how necessary the revels were.

They gave wolves a place to belong, a place of safety, and made it perfectly clear that any human who showed up was in mortal danger. When the moon rose, wolves had a place to go where they couldn't hurt their human family and friends, a place where the wolf could be free.

The Barton's were the ones who came up with the revels. Marcus and Sean and Emily, following in their father's footsteps, came up with a place they could all gather and be safe. And now, Sean Barton was dead. Because of her. Because of Daphne. _Because of Pearl._

Pansy's fists curled as she started to charge at Daphne, but her eye caught Annie's frantic head shake and she just stopped herself, forcing herself to think.

Why wasn't Daphne more afraid of her? They both knew Pansy would have her on the floor in seconds. But then she saw that flash of vicious need in Daphne's bright blue eyes. The same need she first saw during their first meeting when Daphne hired her out to steal The Fern. And Pansy realized that maybe money hadn't been the only motivation for her hire… perhaps there was another reason Daphne had for setting her up to be caught at The Conservatory.

"You know I was there, when it began. Your mother," Daphne took a dramatic breath, as if appreciating a decent vintage of wine instead of talking about her scum of the earth mother. "She's really an artist, isn't she? The way she cut into poor, helpless Theodore…"

Her blade fell into her hand with quickness, "If you want to see art, you should see how great my aim is."

"Ah - ah," she waved her finger as if Pansy were acting a naughty child. "Annie stand up." Calm and in control, Daphne waved Annie to join her, the pearls around her delicate wrist clicking together as she gestured. Pansy watched Annie rise to a uneasy stand, her legs wobbling and her frame wracked with violent shakes. She had the horrifying suspicion that under normal circumstances Annie wouldn't have been able to stand at all, she only did so because of Daphne's command.

"Annie, is it hard to stand on that broken ankle?" Daphne asked with a sweet disposition but her manic gaze never left Pansy's.

"Y-yes," Annie stuttered.

"Annie," Daphne smirked. "Lift your other foot."

"No," Pansy lifted her blade as Annie stood on her broken ankle, her face grimacing in pain as she did. Her fingers itched to plant her dagger deep in Daphne's throat, but the warning was clear.

"Annie, if Pansy attempts to harm me, I want you to bash your head in against this wooden post."

"You're a fucking bitch, Greengrass."

"I know," Daphne shrugged. "Throw your dagger on the ground. Oh, I forgot about that eyeroll of yours. So dramatic. Maybe if you weren't so easy to read, you wouldn't find yourself in such delicate situations? I never understood that. You could have a quiet, safe life and yet you choose to walk into danger. We all know how you feel about being a victim. More specifically, what you would do to stop others from becoming like you."

"And we all know that you murder husbands for their money and couldn't even bother to come say goodbye to your baby sister when she was on her deathbed," Pansy stuck her tongue out as she tossed her beloved dagger to the floor between them.

But her words hardened Daphne's face, her painted lips pinching tightly and the manic glow in her eyes magnifying. "I can't wait to turn you over to your mother!" Daphne yelled like a child throwing a tantrum. "I hope she bleeds you dry just like she did to Theo!"

Pansy wouldn't soon forget the feeling of Theo taking his last breath, nor the sickly phone call that led her to witness his final moments and the very reminder snapped the last of her control.

She charged forward.

Daphne didn't flinch, didn't move from Pansy's path. Instead, a small smile spread across her face. They collided. And then she heard it. It sounded like a staple gun, and the loud click that sounded three times in a row registered long before she felt the sizzle burn up her arm.

The small gadget in Daphne's hand looked like some kind of pressure injector. Full of sparkling Glimmer crystals.

"You're a fucking bitch," Pansy spat as she wrapped her hand around her forearm, stumbling backwards. The crystals had broken through her skin and hit her bloodstream, dissolving instantly, burning her from the inside. What magic left fractured into pieces. The high hit instantly.

Then again.

And a third time.

A staggered beating beneath her veins before heady arousal rolled over every inch of her. She could feel Neville's large hands beneath her clothes, sliding over her skin. Demanding and rough. His anger burned bright and hot, settling over her, warming her up to the core. It flowed beneath her skin and settled into her bones. She had to stop herself from demanding more of a man that wasn't even near her.

She wanted him more in that moment than she wanted air to breathe. The phantom hands burned their way up to her throat, fingers wrapping around her neck. She cried out in want. In need.

Then the world tilted and she looked up at Daphne, realizing she must have fallen at some point. Annie in the corner, her voice mumbling encouragements at her. The ship swayed and Pansy had a single moment of clarity.

She was higher than a fucking kite.

"Pansy," Daphne crouched down, examining her as if she were a bug to be squashed. "Touch your nose."

A slew of expletives left Pansy's mouth but her own voice sounded incredibly far away and then something rushed into her nose, a punch, someone fighting her. She lifted her hand to swing back, realized it was already in the air.

 _Damn it._ She'd punched herself. And made Daphne laugh with glee. "I've waited so long for this, to have you beaten before me. Your mother wants you dead and out of the way, but no, that'd be too merciful don't you think?"

Mercy? What the hell had she ever done to Daphne? Besides general animosity and distrust? She tried to say, "Bite me, Greengrass," but it came out slurred.

Three hits. She'd stayed the hell away from Glimmer since Spain, she didn't remember her mouth not working while Jac was loading her up with the drug though. That side effect was new. But she'd taken three hits back to back to back so who knew what that amount of drug would do to her. Her muscles were relaxing as she laid there, looking up into Daphne's pristine face. Her damn voice sounded like a bell.

"I want you to suffer for what you've done."

The arousal took on an edge of pain, sharp enough to break through the haze. The command clear: _suffer._

"You. Shet me hup..." It sounded funny to her ears but Daphne seemed to understand, her face transforming into something vicious.

"We didn't get along, Astoria and I, not really. But I still loved her… and she's dead because of _you."_

Glitter danced in her eyes, making her vision defocus and focus again, but her heart sank immediately. "Me?"

Tory had passed away from complications with her miscarriage, which had weakened her so dramatically she never recovered. She passed away exactly three months after her and Draco's child died in the womb… What on earth did that have to do with Pansy?

"Oh yes, you. You kept her away from the Healer's, kept her from getting better. Rushed her off to Italy… but don't worry. I won't kill you, if I get the chance I'll kill Posy instead."

Sheer panic rushed through her, mixed with the arousal, mixed with the compulsion. The pain. She wanted to fawn over Daphne and rip out her throat at the same time. She needed to get up, and fight. "No. No."

"Oh yes, the first chance I get, that little wolf is mine. But for now…" The manic gleam in Daphne's eyes clued her into exactly the kind of suffering she wanted for Pansy.

"Pansy, I want you to relive your worst nightmare. Think back to Barcelona, and remember every moment of what Moreau did to you, as if it were happening right this second. And know that when you wake up from your nightmare, I'll send you through it again. And again."

A high whimper filtered through the haze and Pansy thought it had come from her throat, but realized it was Annie, still in the corner… She turned her head and watched the woman who survived hell, twice, crying. For her. For Pansy.

Head lolling, she glanced up at Daphne again, watching as Jac walked up behind her. Her arousal disappeared all at once, and Neville's warmth along with it. Only the cold ice of her heart remained.

The sight of him made her gag, but she couldn't move. Not even to breathe. Her muscles were completely dead. A result of the Rophenol mixed with the Glimmer. She'd always wondered how Jac managed to roofie her that night, but now she knew. Because she could see it happening right in front of her. His fingers had circled the rim of her wine glass, his words expertly distracting her from his true intentions.

She'd forgotten. Forgotten how handsome he was. His brown hair a shiny shade of dark chocolate, his eyes a stunning shade of green, the angles of his face pleasing in a male way. She hated it, why would this monster be so good looking? He stopped right behind Daphne, frowning down at the witch as she kept her eyes trained on Pansy. Didn't she realize the danger they were in?

Jac would do horrible things to them all.

She tried, _she really tried_ , to warn Daphne despite the fact that she just threatened to murder Posy. Pansy wouldn't wish Jacques Moreau on her worst enemy. He was going to do it again. Right then. Right on that ship in the hidden room and Neville would never find her. Jac was going to rape and torture her for a week. And Daphne.

And poor Annie. Poor, poor Annie. Pansy realized how right Theo had been. She _was_ cocky. She'd marched right up to Daphne thinking the witch would be completely useless against Pansy, physically. Of course, Daphne was far weaker and untrained compared to Pansy. But she should have known better, known Daphne had the Glim, known how to use it against her. And for her mistake, she'd gotten three shots of the darkest Glimmer Pansy had ever seen before directly into her arm.

"Good," Daphne laughed and it sounded like a bell chiming. "I can see you're already suffering. Are you remembering him?"

Yes.

"Did you ever wonder why he picked you out?"

Yes.

"You'll suffer like all the rest of them, all those girls we kidnapped, we made Sean and Garrett rape them and kill them. They all suffered before they died."

She couldn't breathe, her chest tight, her mouth unmoving. But she managed to get out two syllables. "Be-hind…"

Jac reached out and Daphne dropped the ground, death in her eyes.

Then he turned to her, his green eyes sparking as they looked down. Or maybe it was the Glimmer. Maybe she should try for her dagger. Her heart should've been racing, but it beat with a sluggish tempo. She was completely helpless against him. Again.

But he turned away from her, and out of her line of sight. Her neck felt too much like a block of stone to move, but she knew he was after Annie.

"No!" She tried to roll over, to fight. She moved maybe a whole inch. "No, Jac…" She tried again to hold onto her rage, to let it fuel her. For Annie. But Daphne's compulsion rang in her ears and the ship around her shimmered one final time and transformed into Jac's apartment. She lay on his bed, naked and bound, hurt. She could smell moldy carpet. The cologne. Glimmer.

His face swam into her vision again. He bent down, to scoop her up. And she broke. "No, Jac."

oOo

Neville picked up Annie Stokes's tiny form, counting the new bruises on her skin and resisting the urge to swear. The woman dropped Pansy's dagger to the ground and fell into his embrace. He glanced to the side. Pansy would be fine for a few moments, but he worried about the amount of blood covering her. He would just have to be quick. He looked down at the woman who had killed Daphne and realized she didn't have long.

He grabbed his walkie as he made for the dock. "Hastings, you there? Meet me at the boat. Now."

"On my way, boss."

"Don-don't leave Pansy," Annie told him in the tiniest of voices.

"I won't."

"She-she saved me, Se-Se-Sean Barton was about to-to… if Pansy hadn't co-come along…"

"I won't leave her behind, Annie. You have my word." He cursed himself for allowing them to split up.

"It wasn't… it wasn't his fault…" she continued as if saying the words hurt. "That woman ma-made him do it. I'd forgotten that b-b-bit."

"Hold on," he jumped off the edge of the boat and landed on the dock, about 15 feet below, just when Les ran up.

"How can we get her to Healer Bones?" Les asked, taking Annie into his own arms. She seemed to twice as uncomfortable under Les's touch, but he had to return for Pansy. "I can call a taxi."

"Give me just a minute and I think I can Apparate us out of here, get some people out here to take control of the ship. We have two dead bodies on board. A witch and a wolf." Neville jumped back onto the ship after Les nodded, and ran for the stairway down.

The moment he realized Pansy had gone missing had him running his hands along each of the walls, knowing these were the people that had hidden their secret room in that alley. Pansy would not have left without him, not without a damn good reason. He hadn't thought for a second she left the ship.

Of course she'd disappeared in the last place he thought to look.

He made it back to the secret room on a jog and spotted Pansy in the same place he'd left her, tears running down her face and smelling like someone electrified a wand and then tossed it in the fire. Her tunic was gone, revealing her pale skin smeared and dotted with blood. It left her only in a tight black bandeau and her leather pants tucked into her boots.

Her usual black attire, but she didn't look like herself at all.

He bent down to grab her dagger, and then picked her up with one arm, her neck unable to support the weight of her head. It fell on his shoulder. When she spoke, her words slurred together. "No, Jac."

She meant him. Why? By the time he'd found the hidden room, he realized he missed a lot. At first glance, he'd wanted to shove Daphne aside and help Pansy before all else. But then she managed to get Daphne to confess before she realized he'd entered the room.

Confess to kidnapping and hurting all those women. To forcing Sean Barton, who lay dead in middle of the room, and this Garrett Buchanan to rape and murder innocent women. How strong would that Glim have to be to force a wolf to touch a wolfmate that wasn't his?

Hal had said it felt like a Cruciatus Curse.

In that moment, he truly felt sorry for Sean Barton.

And how would he ever repay Pansy? "You killed him, Parkinson. He's dead." Jacques Moreau was certainly dead. For twelve long years now. But then he spotted it. It was easy to miss when there was a gaping hole in her throat and blood smeared all over her stomach. But there, on her arm, three distinct burn marks where Glimmer had obviously been shoved into her bloodstream.

No way she'd taken Glimmer willingly. And why the hell had it burned? She had experienced glimmer before. It shouldn't have burned the second time.

Ah, hell. What had Daphne done?

"No! Get off me, Jac! Don't you _dare hurt Annie._ "

"Fucking hell," he had to fight her as well as the urge to bring Daphne Greengrass back to life just so he could break her neck. He still wasn't sure how he felt about that. Part of him said he should have arrested Daphne after she confessed, the other part said it was right to let Annie stab the woman when he could, _should_ have stopped it. He would have been fast enough to stop Annie. But he hesitated and he couldn't figure out why.

The other part of him looked down at the woman in his arms, bloody and beaten, and knew killing Daphne had been the only option.

Just like what he was about to do was the only option. He started patting Pansy down, searching. Annie was severely hurt and needed to get across town and into Susan's care immediately. But Pansy was high on Glim and thinking he was the man that raped her all those years ago. He felt like a bastard, frisking her like this.

"I won't!" she screamed in his face and attempted to swing at him, but her movements were slow and clumsy, her hit barely registered on his shoulder.

"You killed him, Pansy. Jacques Moreau is _dead._ "

His hands moved down each of her thighs and back up again. She was going _kill_ him when she came down from the Glim hit. Probably slowly. With her blade. Cutting him up into tiny little pieces no one would ever find.

She tried to get away from him, from his touch, as little bruises popped up along jaw and neck. What the hell was that Glim doing to her? Telling himself to hurry, he patted the inside of her thigh again and felt it. A lump. Finally. He searched for the undetectable pocket Pansy was constantly fingering when she thought he wasn't watching her and finally found the opening.

" _No!"_ she screamed.

Her smokey voice rattled in his brain, sounding broken and defeated, and then that damn lip started to tremble again. He was the biggest bastard he knew. But he found it.

 _The Dolce Mela._

The biggest, most magical gem in the world. A diamond that was almost the size of his fist, the odd apple shape making it seem thick and prominent. It glittered in the light before he stashed it safely in his jacket pocket and swept Pansy up into both of his arms.

"I won't, please, I _won't_."

He could endure a lot, he knew, but not this.

"Fucking hell, Pansy. I am _not_ Moreau. I _won't_ hurt you!" His yelling, which normally just spurred her on, made her shrink in his arms and him feel even more of a bastard. "Hold on."


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N** : I am so sorry for the long wait everyone! My laptop died a few weeks before Christmas and then I moved in January so I just couldn't afford to get a new laptop right away! I have not abandoned this fic!

* * *

Chapter Nineteen

(Magic water fern good for sleep, bad for everything else)

Awkwardly, he managed to carry Annie tucked to his side with Pansy on the other and use his wand to Apparate to St. Mungo's. Susan had a couch in her office. He dumped a quivering Pansy there and turned to catch Annie when her legs went to give out. His own wanted to do the same. Only because it was the first time in over six months that he had willingly Apparated _anywhere._

It'd taken far longer than expected before people believed the truth about magic. Splinching incidents had skyrocketed for nearly a week before people actually believed in the possibility of Magic being on the fritz. Unlike most, Neville had no problems not Apparating, having never been all that comfortable doing it in the first place. With magic so unstable, he preferred not to lose any body parts no matter how small or cosmetic. Ron always lost his eyebrows, but Neville knew he'd lose something far more valuable.

But… the diamond hidden in his pocket seemed to make magic feel normal again. Almost because he thought he felt a touch more powerful than he had before, the feeling akin to the first several days after the experiment that increased his physical strength. And underneath the hum of unfamiliar power lay the faintest trace of a chill, one he was more than familiar with.

He felt it everyday in his shoulder.

It was this feeling that kept his legs standing instead of folding underneath him, Annie tucked tightly in his arms.

She clung to him with clawed fingers, her skin a mottled yellow dotted with blistering Glim burns he wish he could erase for her. She still wore the pale yellow gown Susan had given her when she first came to St. Mungo's. But now it was smudged with dirt and blood, while one sleeve looked to have been ripped off with large teeth.

"I'm sorry - I'm so-so useless," she muttered into his shoulder. "Always needing to be rescued."

"No ordinary woman could have survived what you have, Ms. Stokes." He gentled his tone as much as he could as he lifted her up, her weight that of a feather to him, and left the room in search of Susan not at all confident his legs would remain upright.

"You're j-j-just saying that to make me f-f-feel better," she accused with more fight than he expected and he had to resist the urge to smile. She'd be fine, he thought, if they could just get her healed. He didn't think anyone else would be after her now.

He found Susan down the hall, robe disheveled and her flaming red hair in a messy bun as she attempted to clear out a blocked hallway. "This way." She dropped the charred block of wood to the ground with a loud clunk and led them without hesitation into Annie's previous room, taking charge.

Unlike with Pansy, he gently set Annie down on the hospital bed and arranged her comfortably. "Do you know why Daphne came back for you?"

"To test the ef-ef-effects of their drug. The b-black crystals… those are the strongest b-batch they've made. I was their first test subject…" her voice broke on that word 'subject', and Neville found himself placing his hand on her shoulder.

"They? Daphne and Pearl Parkinson?"

Annie shook her head. "I don't know his name. The Glimmer… it m-m-made me lucid, but I know I shouldn't be. I should be d-d-dead. She... commanded me to stay alive."

The implications of her statement made Neville's head spin. Not even the Imperius Curse could do such a thing. Beside him, a Muggle medical machine came to life and began making strange beeping sounds.

"There's nothing I can give her," Susan said as she began running some type of medical tests, setting up an IV. "Magic is out and Glimmer counteracts most potions and medicine."

"If you could do magic, would it help?" Neville fingered the diamond in his pocket. He didn't care who knew about it, if it would save even one life he would use it in a heartbeat.

Susan shook her head, checking Annie's dilated eyes. "No. It's too unpredictable with the amount of drugs in her system. Annie, did they give you more Glimmer?"

A frantic nod. "Tried not to, tried to stop them…"

"It's not your fault," Susan said with authority. Then to Neville she said, "She needs rest more than anything right now. Her body is in total shock. Annie, you need to calm down. You're safe now and I'll be damned if I let anyone take you again."

Neville nodded and headed for the door, there was nothing left he could do for Annie.

"Nev?"

"Yeah?" he turned his head to look at Susan, who didn't bother looking at him when she spoke.

She stuck a needle into Annie's arm, Neville assumed some kind of Muggle medicine. "Good job."

He didn't say anything, because he would've disagreed with her, and immediately made for Susan's office to deal with the second of his problems. Pansy Parkinson wasn't easy to deal with on an average day. Pansy dosed up on Glim? He didn't know what to expect. He kind of wanted to shake her and demand to know why the hell she didn't wait for him before taking on a drugged up werewolf and Daphne. Together the two of them could have handled the entire situation far better. Now he worried she would even survive the encounter.

She was _tiny._ And three doses of Glimmer? He wasn't sure what that would do to her system. He reached Susan's office and immediately had to dodge back when Pansy swung at him with her dagger the moment he walked through the door. The dagger he'd picked up after Annie stabbed Daphne in the back with it. He hadn't even noticed when she lifted it off his person, but seeing the look in her eyes and death grip she held onto the lethal blade now, he knew she felt panicked.

And Pansy in a state of panic was a danger to everyone. He had the cut on his neck to prove it.

Though she still moved with far more speed than an average person, it was nowhere near her usual grace. She actually tripped on her own feet, a sight he'd never seen before, as she charged at him again. It didn't stop him from disarming her, putting her wrists in a lock as he placed the dagger under his jacket on his back. It felt like ice through his shirt.

Pansy screamed out and he realized his hold on her was far too hard. Releasing her, she pushed off him and lost her footing again, falling backward into the desk as she attempted to get away. Papers and small trinkets crashed into the ground as the desk shoved backwards. Her arm trembled as she held herself, and he spotted what she held in her other hand. "Do it," she whispered at him, and her bright indigo eyes swirled black with nightmares when she glanced up and met his gaze. "Don't fight me on this."

"Ho ho…" He didn't recognize the small gadget in her hand, but he had no problem identifying the glittering crystals slotted within. The damn thing was probably used to dose up Annie and Pansy both, and now she asked him to do it again?

"Abso-lutely not." He stepped forward when she lost the battle to hold herself up. As far as Neville was concerned, this new Glim was on par with The Imperius Curse. It's use Unforgivable. He would never use it on another living being, not even his worse enemy. Not even Pansy.

"I know you aren't him… but you look like him… and he's hurting me…"

He couldn't stop himself from dropping to his knees and holding her up despite her words. He hated that he had to school his tone so he didn't sound so harsh. "He can't hurt you. He's dead."

"No…" She moved like a puppet whose strings had been cut, disjointed and collapsed. But still, she managed to find the strength to sit up, using the desk for support. "We both know that's not true… he's… always hurting me."

"No, not anymore," he said, keeping his voice low and gentle. "You know you're drugged right now, you know you're under the influence, fight it."

But she didn't hear his words. Then she shoved the pressure injector into his hand. "I told you not to fight me on this."

"No, Pansy, you can't take another hit. You've had three!"

"You can override her command," her voice sounded raspy. "Otherwise… I'll be like this. All week."

"No, just until the Glimmer gets out of your system."

"You know what this Glim did to Annie. It lasted for days longer than usual…" her fists curled and uncurled at the mere thought of having to live through the compulsion for that long. And more Glim burns appeared on her arms, followed by a bruise that looked like fingers wrapped around her upper arm. "I took three hits of that…"

"How are you not dead?" Susan asked from the door, hand over her heart. Neville glanced at her over his shoulder then back to Pansy.

"What did Daphne command of you?" he asked, unable to loosen his hold on her.

Pansy's eyes darted between Susan and him, her tremble increasing. "Spain…" her voice dropped, her eyes tortured. She didn't have explain further, he knew exactly the hell Daphne reaped on her.

A strange desperation shook him. "Why didn't you wait for me? I could have handled Daphne!"

"Ambushed. No time. What would've happened if she dosed you up instead?" She shivered. "Can't let them get a hold of you. Do I have you make you angry? He's hurting me and I'd rather be," her shiver became violent and she paused to collect herself. "I'd rather be helping Annie. Damn you Longbottom, use the Glim. Tell me to come to my senses. Yell at me, I don't care. Do anything."

Hal's voice whispered in his ear, ' _She been through hell and if she snaps her fingers and tells me to sic 'em, ima sic 'em.'_ At the time he said those words to him, Neville wondered how the hell someone like her could inspire such loyalty from someone like Hal.

Now he knew.

Three doses of Glimmer and the compulsion to relive the worst moment of her life… and she was asking after Annie?

Fuck this. He wasn't using anymore Glim on her, no matter how strong she thought she was. No one could survive more after how much she already had. But he had to do something or else…

His hands tightened their grip on her. He was done being gentle.

Pansy Parkinson didn't respect or appreciate gentle. And he wasn't going to let her continue to suffer just because it seemed Daphne managed to get the the jump on her. He pushed her into the desk and then wrapped his hand around her arm, pressing into the Glimmer burns, listening as she screamed.

"Nev! What are you doing?" Susan sounded horrified as she ran up, attempted to stop him.

He didn't care. He pressed harder into Pansy's arm and yanked her forward. "Snap of out it, Parkinson. I mean it."

She screamed again. Then said, "The Glim… use the Glim!"

He yanked them both up to their feet and dragged her across the room, pinning her to the wall by her throat. He dug his fingers into the wound on her neck before he realized Susan had her hands on his arm. "You let her go right this instant, Nev!"

"She doesn't need help," he growled, pressing in. "She needs to remember how strong she is. To remember who she is. A stone-cold bitch who doesn't let anyone fuck with her."

"Nev!"

"I'm not," Pansy clawed at his hands, suddenly weak and far more afraid. "I'm not-"

"You are-"

"Listen," Susan shouted at them both, banging her fists against his arm. "Whatever the hell is going on between you two, you need to work it out later. Because if I can't find a way to calm Annie down, she's going to go into shock and I don't think her heart can take it."

A high pitched whine came from Pansy's throat and he loosened his hold. She took several deep breaths, her muscles trembling. "The Fern… try The Fern."

Susan's mouth dropped open. "That's brilliant, that's totally brilliant!" She rushed out of the room without another word. Neville watched her go off, knowing she would track down Bobbi in an instant and have the plant here within half an hour at the latest.

"Neville…"

He looked down at Pansy and frowned. Her voice sounded higher, more like what it used to sound like back at school. "I'm not using the damn Glim, Parkinson." He wouldn't do that to her. He couldn't. How could she ask him of such a thing?

"Then, I belong to him." She shivered and he watched her eyes lose the remainder of their unique color, the indigo fading into black beneath a starry sky. Giving in. Giving up.

"No," he shook his head, trying to think of the best way to incite her anger. She fought best when ticked off, and he needed her fighting now more than ever. He leaned in and whispered the first thing he could think of, "You belong to me."

A single, sucked in breath was her only reaction. But it was enough to let him know he caught her.

So he kept pulling that thread. "How does it feel? To know that I own you? You're all mine, Parkinson. Body and soul, all mine."

"Noo," she shook her head vehemently. "No."

"Look at you," he pulled her closer. "You couldn't defend yourself from a gnat let alone me. I could do whatever I wanted to you, lock you up, tie you up-"

 _"No!"_

"You can't be his if you're mine," he felt her trembles subside, her breath even. He knew making her angry could break through the fog of Glimmer. "Which is worse?"

"Longbottom-"

"Tell me which is worse. Him. Or me?" he demanded. Get her thinking about him, all their years together driving each other up the walls. All the fights they'd had. The close calls. The chase.

All the blood drawn.

"C'mon, Parkinson. Answer my damn question."

"You," she growled, voice deepening. "You are."

Except, his plan backfired as quickly as he'd come up with it. That wasn't the answer he expected to his question. She might as well have thrown acid on him. "Really?" he growled back. "I'm worse than him? The man who who drugged you? Who violated you?"

"Yes," she hissed, her nails digging into the skin of his hands still wrapped around her neck. "Yes."

"You are such a fucking bitch." He dropped his hands and shoved her away. "How am I worse than him? How can you say that?"

He shook out his fingers and tried not to shout in his frustration, angry at her for not trusting him, for asking him to do something so horrible like pumping her with even more Glimmer, and the real kicker. That she actually thought he was worse than a man like Moreau?

Tonight should have been a win.

Then she said, "Even Jac couldn't compel me to love him," before pushing past him and stumbling out of the room. He felt her fingers clumsily retrieve her dagger from behind his shirt, but he didn't stop her.

He felt like he'd been hit by a train. A train named Pansy Fucking Parkinson.

oOo

Pansy legs were no better than limp noodles as far as she was concerned, and it took all her effort to walk down the hallway and make it to Annie's room. She leaned against the door frame gasping for air as her vision wavered between Jac's place and St. Mungo's.

Slowly, the compulsion faded allowing the tiniest wiggle room to focus on reality.

St. Mungo's.

Neville.

Annie, who was alive.

Her wounds, and not the ones the Glimmer mimicked, pulling forth from years long ago. But the wounds like the burns on her arm. The bite wound in her neck. A wound that Neville made worse when he wrapped his hands around her throat and pinned her to the wall. He'd inadvertently made her realize that the pain helped fight against Daphne's compulsion. It hurt like hell but she had to focus on that pain.

Otherwise she would be lost to sheer madness.

She didn't fully understand why the pain helped when the same couldn't be true for her mother's and Daphne's other victims. Sean Barton had to have been in a world of pain, as a wolf touching another wolf's mate would experience extreme agony and yet, he couldn't fight it any better. She pressed her fingers into the burns on her arm, felt the searing agony of pressure on her blistered skin and the rawness of exposed flesh. It helped her focus.

She trained her eye down the hallway towards the exit. She could leave right then. There was no one to stop her, not with Neville in the room behind her pissed off and not willing to help her no matter the fact they'd been working together the last several days. She could probably make it to her townhome safely, assuming she didn't run into anymore Italians. Or wolves. Or her mother. Or any other Aurors… Wobbling, she leaned against the wall and looked the other direction, towards Annie's room.

Her feet itched to take her to her house, to safety, a place no one would ever think to look for her because only one person had known it existed. And Theo wasn't around anymore, she reminded herself bitterly.

No one would come looking.

But what if The Fern didn't work?

High as a kite she stumbled ungracefully towards the patient room where she could hear a monitor beeping, trying her best not to think of whatever hell Posy was going through nor the conversation she'd just had with Neville. She looked into the room and tried to memorize the bland features. Pale white walls, a smooth white ceiling, a small window on the far side with white curtains. The bed was made up with a blue blanket.

And… "Annie?" she asked in a soft voice.

Annie lay on the bed, eyes wide as she stared directly above her, chest heaving with the labor of her breaths. An IV hooked into her arm and a nearby monitor beeped excessively. Pansy hobbled over to her and braced her arms against the edge of the hospital bed. "Annie, Healer Bones will be right back. Stay with us."

"C-can't."

"Yes, you can," Pansy dragged her useless legs over to the corner of the room and grabbed the tall stool there, listening as its legs scraped against the floor as she brought it over to Annie's side again. She collapsed on it and braced her elbows against Annie's bed. And tried to breathe.

Just breathe.

Pale white walls, a smooth white ceiling, a small window on the far side with white curtains. The bed was made up with a blue blanket.

She didn't have time to deal with her own issues. She handled Glim before, she could do it now. Annie needed help. "Spit in their faces by living." Her head spun and the room wavered, the walls turning into the dark wood of Jac's apartment. She blinked several times but the longer she looked at the wall the clearer it became. She reached up and dug her fingers into the open wound on her neck.

The dull ache turned sharp and she gasped and the room wavered again, the stink of magic in her nose. Her fingers became sticky with hot blood but the dark walls turned white again.

"You give in," she continued, looking down into Annie's pale, scratched up face. "And they win. Don't let them win, Annie."

"What the hell are you doing, Ms. Parkinson?"

Damn. She came up on her feet even though her muscles were made of paper at that moment and held her dagger out, prepared to defend Annie and herself at all costs. She ignored it when she swayed, her main hand trembling, blood slick against the hilt. "Who are you? Stay away." Her other fingers spasmed as she looked for another blade on her person. She'd rather be naked and armed than fully clothed and weaponless like this.

Tony always said she was a little unhinged.

The man who stood in the doorway wore red Auror's robes and had dark skin that matched his dark eyes. It took far longer than it should have to place him as one of Neville's friends, as the one who came with Susan to Neville's house. But the fleeting moment they'd met before didn't give her any comfort now.

He held up his hands. "Name's Connor. And there's no threat to Ms. Stokes from me. I'm just curious about why you decided to make that hole in your neck bigger? Seems like a bad idea to me."

She considered him as carefully as her drug addled brain would allow. His words seemed genuine but she couldn't trust herself let alone someone else right then.

The Glim made everything dull, all her senses and thoughts were working half time. Her muscles felt far too heavy. Who knew the extent of her mother's reach? Or her main goal? Shaking her head, she peered into those dark eyes again and looked for a spark of glitter or any other sign that this Connor was under the influence of Glim. She saw nothing.

Belatedly, she pointed with her dagger. "You. Stay there."

"Guard duty," he shrugged and leaned against the wall by the door as if he hadn't a single care in the world. "My favorite."

She blinked and Connor morphed into Jac. She jammed her finger into her neck. Allowed the pain to fight the compulsion.

"Seriously, why are you doing that? Exactly how high are you?"

"Do they pay Guards to think now?" she snapped.

"Pansy…"

She leaned over Annie again, thankful for the excuse to rest against the bed. "What do you need Annie?"

"How do you fight it?"

Shit. She hoped Daphne was enjoying her fiery entry into hell. Why go through the effort of taking Annie when they had an army of wolves to experiment on? "What did she command you to do, Annie?"

"My dad. He died to pro-protect me. I keep hearing him say my-my name."

Pansy wrapped her free hand in Annie's. "That's your answer, love. That's what dads are supposed to do, picture the best possible life for their little girls. Do everything they can for them. Feed them, love them, die for them. Now it's your turn to fight, for your dad. You live for him now, where he can't."

"I can't-"

A hustle of noise sounded down the hallway before a large group of people crushed through the door. Annie's hands became a deathgrip around her fingers. The noise level increased significantly, raging on Pansy's ears, panic became overwhelming. She couldn't fight everyone off. Not in the state she was in.

They bustled in and surrounded them, leaving only enough room for one to fit through. He wore a lab coat with a green leaf stitched into the collar, using his wand to float The Fern into the room. She looked to Connor, who still had his intense eyes pinned to her.

"There's too many people in here, she's going to panic-"

"They're here to protect The Fern," he insisted.

"From who?" she argued, trying to stand tall when her balance wanted to tip her over.

"You." Connor glared at her as he said the word, as if his answer was obvious.

Her? Seriously? But her own mistake for falling into the idea that these damn Aurors knew she was on their side on this one. "I'm so fucking high I can barely see you from up here. What threat am I?"

She mentally prepared to fight him when her brain finally caught up and pointed out his aggressive stance. If he wanted to insist on treating her as the enemy, she would prove exactly how deadly a foe she could be - drugged up or not. Despite her trembles she could take out a several people before they subdued her. Annie was down for the count and Pansy didn't believe she would assist the others in the fight against Pansy if she weren't. The staff crowding The Fern were all soft, their power in numbers only which meant she had to be quick. And she could be. The only real threat was Neville's Auror Buddy and - Oh, but then the magical aura of The Fern hit her.

Not really.

It didn't hit her.

It started at the edges of her skin, rolling gently over her like the softest of waves lapping at the shore. Forcing peace into all the little cracks and fissures of her soul. A soothing balm that forced all her muscles to relax and siphoned all the rage away. Her fingers rose up in the air as if to catch it. "Oh, hell."

Her eyes dragged back to the plant. It had grown to twice the size since she last saw it, its leaves a jewel green, tendrils of vines and white flowers sprouting between the massive swaths of leaves like lovers intertwining. It bounced in a unfeelable breeze, as if curling towards her. Wanting her.

Suddenly able to breathe again, she fell back onto the stool and felt a hum rise up in her chest. Her dagger fell to the ground. Everything faded away leaving a refreshing mental clarity. Jac was gone. The Glim high remained, but it transformed from the harsh compulsion to a sweet aloofness.

She could taste chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. She could smell the tobacco from her father's pipe and could hear Posy laughing. A warm summer's night breeze lifted the ends of her hair as it ruffled over her. And nothing mattered at all.

Susan Bones rushed forward or perhaps she'd been there the entire time. Her mouth moved and then Pansy heard the words she spoke. "I don't think it's working," she frowned as she checked Annie's pulse. "Damn it, I did not suffer through Muggle Medical school just so these machines could fail now."

Annie's panicked eyes switched from Pansy to Susan and back again, filling with tears. "What do I-I-I do? Pansy… I want to live… for my-my dad."

She eyed the wand in Susan's hand, thoughts turning fuzzy as she found her own hand searching her undetectable pocket… and finding it empty. But the magical aura of The Fern made it impossible to panic over her lost diamond. Instinctually, she leaned forward and grabbed onto Annie's hands, all eyes turning to her. The hum burst from her chest, her mouth opened.

And Pansy began to sing.

oOo

Neville paced with his phone pressed to his ear, listening to Bobbi yell orders and direct the group taking over the ship. He wanted to break everything in Susan's office but held himself back knowing Susan would whip him bloody if he dared mess up a single thing in her hospital.

"Where is this secret room?" she asked him after she finished telling someone off for falling in the river.

"Second level, by the large crates of Glimmer."

"Nev, these crates are huge. Are they all full of Glim?"

"Every one of them. You should give Hastings a raise. He found that ship." He barely managed to make his tone seem civil, but underneath his skin he could feel his anger urging him to do the kind of violence only ever inspired by a certain spellthief.

"And can you explain why there are two dead people in this room next to all this Glim?"

"Look, Parkinson and I got separated, so I don't know what happened with the wolf. But Annie is the one that stabbed Daphne Greengrass." He paused. "Greengrass was torturing Pansy."

"Hell, you're in a mood." Maybe his tone wasn't so civil after all. "Is she alright? Her clothes are all over the place."

"Isn't she always?" he snapped. "Sorry, yeah. She'll be fine. I think. Daphne loaded her up with Glim, three hits of it actually. But she's here with Annie and Susan." Driving him batshit crazy.

"Three hits? Isn't this supposedly the strongest Glimmer we've encountered? The Fern should be there soon, by the way."

"I know, I hear the entourage coming now." And he could, the whole lot of them were chatting loudly as they brought the Fern down the hallway and past where he stood in the doorway.

"Connor is here to protect Pansy?" he asked, making sure he got that right.

"Pfft. He's there to make sure she doesn't try anything with The Fern. I don't want any harm coming to that plant. And of course, he wanted to keep an eye on Ms. Stokes. Are you really in love with her?"

What the fuck? He wasn't sure what kind of face he made, but it physically hurt him to make it.

The door trim where he'd been bracing himself crumbled into dust and splinters under his grip. He didn't make the mistake of thinking she spoke of Annie. "Who said I was?" he snapped, unable to reel in his bad mood now. How could he be in love with someone as horrible as Pansy Parkinson? A woman sent straight from hell to torment him. Who ran off, cocky and full of herself and got herself bloody and shot up with three hits of Glimmer and still managed to take him out at the knees?

"Hermione."

"Well, Hermione is 15 fucking months pregnant and out of her mind, Bobs. How else do you think I was able to ditch Ron?"

"What exactly is the point of having a boss if you aren't going to listen to her?"

"Got me, what's the point?"

"Ho ho. I got two words for you, LB. Desk. And duty."

His sharp response to that was on the tip of his tongue when he heard it.

A song voice unlike anything he'd ever heard before.

"Uhhh, I gotta go Bobs."

"Don't forget about dinner-" he ended the call and slid his phone into his back pocket and walked down the hallway to the over crowded room.

There must have been about twenty people stuffed around Annie's bed, most wearing the signature stitched green leaf that let him know they were from The Conservatory. He pushed through them and stood next to Connor. He should have noticed the monitor hooked to Annie. How her heart rate slowed down to normal levels. How her breathing became steady and slow, and how her wide, dark eyes fluttered shut, and she finally relaxed into what looked like a peaceful sleep.

But everyone, Susan, Connor, the lab techs, and the guard set on The Fern, all watched in silence as Pansy Parkinson sat on her stool, blood dripping from her neck, swaying back and forth as she sang in Italian as if it were her first language. The smoke and rich alto of her voice held sway over every person in the room. It combined with the magical aura of The Fern until he could practically see a wave of magic in the air, a bubble that encompassed the room and held total sway over its inhabitants.

Peace spread throughout the small hospital room, leeching all his anger and all his frustration until only a calm, steady feeling remained and his muscles relaxed completely.

Suddenly, optimism was his middle name. They rescued Annie. Les and the Pats were taking control of the Adelaide at that very moment. Confiscating the largest stash of Glimmer ever recovered and taking it away from the streets where it could do the most harm. He was halfway to keeping his promises to bring justice to the victims of his case.

They'd managed to accomplish so much and he wanted to curl up and sleep in his bed, think about his dad, and the life Neville could live for his sacrifice.

And Pansy glowed with power, smelling of steely birch water and a cold burst of something sweet, like lavender.

No one moved to stop her, even after Annie fell into a deep sleep. They all relaxed. Leaning against the wall, sitting on the floor with sleepy sighs. Susan stayed by Annie, but her focus was on Pansy's song and Pansy's song alone.

It was, without a doubt, the singularly most magical thing he'd ever witnessed before.

Eyes closed, she sang in Italian a slow song about flowers that sounded as sweet as she smelled. When the song ended, she switched to a french lullaby he didn't understand, but thought might be a children's song. By the time her song ended, everyone had had fallen into a soft sleep, including Susie and Connor.

He wanted to join them, but a little voice at the back of his mind whispered that Frank Longbottom hadn't died to protecting him, not exactly. His dad had lost his mind and lived the rest of his life in the Janus Thickey Ward until two rogue wolves raided the hospital and murdered most of the residents and staff before setting a fire that burned half the building down.

Neville snapped out of the spell and shook off the strange sheen of magic that clung to his skin. He looked up again and the scene had changed, everyone in the room looked enslaved, bound to Pansy's song as if by chains of magic as she continued to sing. Strange how her song changed again, but it flowed continuously even as her language changed with it.

Now was his only chance.

He dashed forward after struggling to force his feet to move and bulldozed right into Pansy, cutting off her song by covering her mouth with his hand. They tumbled over to the ground and her complete lack of fight had him concerned, except for the abrupt interruption cut off her magic and allowed his movement to come easier. He rolled them up and pulled her onto his lap in a single movement, coming to sit against the wall by Annie's bed.

Susan jumped up and immediately started running tests on Annie but other than that he focused totally on the woman in his arms, a steep wave of distrust making him wary of every encounter they'd had in the past. "Parkinson?"

"She did it," Susan spoke quietly, as if she couldn't believe her own readings. "Annie is returning to normal, other than the high level of Glimmer in her system."

"Not me," Pansy blinked up at him. She slurred, "The Fern. Believe me."

He looked around at all the people currently lying on the ground, all of them sleeping peacefully. "The Fern never did this before."

Neville watched her closely, saw the moment she processed his words and the very next when she passed out, as if she'd given up.

"Nev, help me with Connor. He's bleeding."

He gently set Pansy aside before helping Susan as asked, but the moment Connor came around and found his own feet Neville turned and found the space beside Annie's bed empty. "Fuck."


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N:** This chapter got away from me a bit, but I'm not apologizing! Thanks for your continued support of my fic!

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty**

(Unemployed man meets cowardly ghost)

Bobbi cornered him in his office when he stepped in to change before going in search of Garrett Buchanan. Neville didn't know what else to do. Pansy was in the wind, but Susan had everyone at St. Mungo's squared away at least. No one else was hurt other than his friend Connor who scraped the underside of his arm as he fell asleep.

When Pansy _sang_ him to sleep. Like a siren.

He'd be fine, but they were all on serious edge after finding out about Pansy's hidden talent. Connor seemed hellbent on bringing her in, but Neville didn't think she'd be of any use. Not in the state Daphne had left her. It sucked knowing he was in for a fight the next time he ran into his friend, just as he knew he was in for a fight with Bobbi. A fight he didn't have time for.

That left him with one avenue. Other than Pearl Parkinson, the man Pansy claimed to be Daphne's personal assistant was the last unknown in his case. And he had a thought on just where to find information on him, but he needed clothes that didn't have Annie and Parkinson's blood all over it.

Of course he should have known Bobbi wouldn't let a thing lie, not after the crazy events of the night. "Don't even start on me, Bobs."

"I'm not your boss right now," she said leaning against his desk, voice calm and steady. He must have been her last stop for the day because she wore her bright cloak and had her briefcase with her, but her expression was all business… and determination. "We're on friend-time."

Friend-time was their expression for no work talk, where the two of them weren't allowed to discuss anything related to their jobs and Bobbi had to do her best not to boss anyone around. It worked during relaxed situations, such as dinner and get togethers, but rarely garnished success when they were already angry with one another.

Like now.

"Is that even possible at the moment?" He made his way around her and his desk to pull on the bottom drawer where he kept spare shirts for exactly his current situation.

"Yes, because Connor and I are extremely worried for you right now. We've all had a stressful week, you especially, and if you want to talk about any of it, I'm here to listen without…" her eyes rose up to glare at him before she resigned herself to finish her sentence. "Listen without judgement."

"That's strange, I'm reading a good bit of judgement from you right now. Turn around." He didn't wait before stripping out of his jacket and pulling his bloody shirt over his head. Worried? Hardly. Bobbi was nosy on top of needing to be in control of every little thing, and Connor was just plain pissed off.

"No, if you were thinking clearly-"

"Judgement."

"Nev!"

"And don't forget I've gotten really good at sensing when people are lying to me." He smiled at her despite his annoyance, and made it as clear as possible he sensed her dishonesty from the start. Less about the fact that she kept cornering him to have an argument and more about the fact that something between them hadn't been right for a few weeks and he couldn't put his finger on why. She might have legitimate concerns about Pansy - he wasn't an idiot, he knew he was treading dangerous waters where Parkinson was concerned - but there was a tension between him and Bobbi that started weeks before Pansy showed up at The Conservatory.

He heard what must have been Bobbi kicking the foot of his desk followed by a frustrated sigh and he understood that feeling all too well. He realized she wanted to talk about work, about Annie, about Pansy, and about the Glimmer, but he had exactly one lead to follow and he was antsy to get to it.

Then he felt her small hand against his bare shoulder, much gentler than most physical touch he'd had lately. "Nev, just answer me one question before you go stomping off."

He turned to face her again after pulling a clean grey tee shirt over his head that smelled faintly of his drawer. "I'm not stomping off, Annie is safe and Daphne Greengrass is dead. My last lead is this Garrett Buchanan and whatever information he might have could lead to Pearl Parkinson."

"I declared Friend-time, that's work talk." Bobbi folded her arms and he could tell she attempted to tone down the bossiness. "I'm here to talk about you, your well being."

She lied. Again.

"No, you're not. Why are you really here?"

"Didn't we decide that 'Friend-time' never works?" Bobbi and Neville turned towards the door as Hermione walked in, one hand curled under her abdomen. She fanned herself with her other hand and plopped down into Neville's desk chair with a loud groan. "Oh, that's better."

"What like she isn't bossy enough, now you two are trying to tag-team me?"

"Not at all," Hermione told him and it sounded like the truth. "I've been working on the runes you and Pansy found in the building Ms. Stokes was located at, I was going to call you when I heard you yelling at Bobbi."

Another groan, but this one came from Bobbi. "I was attempting to get him to talk about literally anything besides work and now you're bringing more work to the conversation, Hermione!"

"And I wasn't yelling at her, Hermione. She's yelling at _me_."

"And I apologize for that, Bobbi," she continued as if he hadn't spoken at all. "However we both know he isn't going to talk about Pansy Parkinson, or any related feelings, to either of us until he's ready and he needs this information for his case."

"He needs to talk out his feelings before he does something else irrational-"

"Uh 'he' is standing right here, people." And he was sure getting sick of listening to other people tell him about his own feelings. He had sex with someone, it wasn't a damn marriage proposal.

"Whatever irrational thing has he done?" Hermione argued back as if debating a topic casually and not going toe to toe with the woman who ran the whole operation.

"Besides sleeping with Pansy Parkinson? Besides willingly working with her? How about him _Apparating_ to St. Mungo's? Does that sound like a rational action to you?"

"I actually did wonder what made him risk Apparating, but obviously he thought he could handle it or decided to risk it in order to save Annie Stokes." Hermione said calmly, gently rubbing her belly.

The diamond in his pocket suddenly felt a lot heavier and Neville wondered if he should tell them why he felt no hesitation in Apparating, the reason Pansy had done magic so easily when everyone else struggled to even use a Lumos. Then he rolled his eyes and decided not to say a word.

Why would he? They weren't listening to him in the first place.

"I don't understand why am I the only one who is concerned here? He refuses to talk about Jory, he refused to get a new partner until I forced the issue, he won't eat, he won't sleep, and why is no one concerned that he slept with his most hated enemy?"

"Right, so I'm leaving now," he said despite the look of fury Bobbi gave him. "If you have any useful information to share, now is the time."

"As I said before," Hermione spoke over Bobbi's huff of protest. "I have been working on those runes you found and while there is still much for me to decipher I believe Bobbi's theory about magic in the city is correct."

"Your theory?" Neville turned to Bobbi, ignoring her obvious frustration. He was good at it. He'd had lots of practice after spending so much time with Parkinson.

"It never made sense that magic would sort of work on one side of the city and not the other. The dividing line is too straight to be natural. We've just never found any proof. Until, possibly, now. Where's your map?"

He pulled the map of the city from its place in the drawer and unrolled it across his desk after Hermione helped him clear a space. She spoke next. "Basically, the runes create a very large ward over the city around it."

She picked up a worn down pencil and pointed to the block where they'd found the wolf murder victims. She placed an X over the building Annie had been found in. "Even with the state of magic going in and out like it has the last few years, there was no explanation for why it simply did not work at all on to the East." She traced a solid line that divided the city. "But after finding this building with the runes," she drew another line parallel to the dividing line, one that went directly through the X. "I'm willing to bet there are others somewhere along this line that keep the city warded against magic on that side."

"Why that side? If it's to purposely disrupt magic as you say, why not on the West side where Diagon Alley is? Or The Ministry?" Neville asked, tapping on the part of the map where The Offices were. Just a hair to the left of the dividing line. "Parkinson followed Marcus Barton down this road, hopped the fence here, and said Barton Apparated away here."

He watched both Bobbi and Hermione follow his finger trail and the matching expression on their face when they realized the problem.

"Oh but-"

"Magic wouldn't work-"

"She chased him to the East." Neville completed for them. "Damn wolves. They think they run this city. Look," he took the pencil from Hermione's hand and began to mark the major wolf clubs in the area. "All towards the East. I don't know where the families live, but I heard the Fawley's live up in this area, just on the right side of the line. I bet there are little pockets where magic isn't interrupted right around these areas."

"We should ask Ms. Parkinson if she can confirm this theory for us, seeing as she knows so much about the wolf families we don't." Bobbi backed up from the map after she snapped a quick picture of it.

"Great idea. If you see her let me know." He thought his tone sounded extremely civil.

They both turned their heads to look at him.

"What, the honeymoon is over already?" Bobbi sneered.

"Where did she go, Nev?" Hermione asked him gently.

He shrugged. "Hell if I know."

Bobbi said, "Probably for the best anyways. Technically, her end of the contract is fulfilled. We've stopped the wolf murders."

"It's not over yet," Neville argued. Funny how fighting with Bobbi made him feel exhausted and drained when arguing with Pansy usually invigorated him. "David Rowe expressly pointed out Pearl Parkinson as the figurehead behind the whole thing, we have to find her, and we still have to track down Buchanan."

"Both of which we can do without the aid of some common criminal," Bobbi shouted at him, walking up to get in his face. She tapped the side of his head with not so gentle force. "Someone who keeps messing with your head!"

"You know the funny thing about it, Bobs?" He pointed in her face instead of grabbing her arm like he wanted. "You two are ex- _actly_ alike!"

"Excuse me!-"

"Yeah! Exactly alike! Short, doesn't know when to shut up, and getting on my last-damn-nerve!"

"The difference is," she didn't hesitate to yell back at him, "is that I actually care about you _you_ _giant_ _idiot_! And your behavior lately has me seriously concerned and if you don't give me some kind of assurance that you're doing alright I will take that damn badge right off your person and chuck it into the river so you can get some goddamned rest!"

"Rest?" his voice raised without his permission. "I don't need rest!"

"You're right - you need therapy! Think of the last four months. Your parents passed away-"

"Don't talk about my parents, Bob!"

"It was a tragic night and I can't imagine how you feel but if you don't talk about it with someone-"

"You mean you? I don't have to talk to you about every last thought and feeling I'm having-"

"And then Jory left and you underwent the experiment, that's plenty enough to require professional therapy, Nev-"

"Bobbi! You are not my therapist. You're my boss, and your only concern should be whether or not I'm capable of doing my job. Which I am."

"I'm your friend first and I am not afraid to stand up and point out what everyone else is ignoring," she said pointedly to Hermione. "Just look at you!"

Barbara O'Donnell stomped right up into Neville's front space and despite the fact that she was far shorter and half his weight, she wrenched his tee shirt down and gestured angrily to the red cut that went from his collarbone to the tip of his jaw. Then she grabbed his hand and held it palm up towards the light, revealing the mostly healed but definitely scarred cut from the fight at The Conservatory. "Look! Look at the bags under your eyes! You need rest."

He pushed her off with more force than necessary and felt guilt when she hit the edge of his desk hard. But she wasn't holding back any punches. So neither did he.

"You wanna know the last time I slept? So would I! I can't remember the last time I slept more than an hour or two at a time! Ever since this 'experiment' my damn muscles hurt too much to fall into any kind of peaceful sleep. You're the one who pushed me to it, so you have to live with that. And for the record you can stick me with the newbies and you can sic Ron and Connor on me all you want, but I am not working with another partner again!"

"Nev!" she stepped back, looking hurt.

"So stop trying to pick a damn fight with me and help me instead! Or else," he stepped back. "Fire me."

"Give me your badge then."

The second afterwards stretched out, his fingers tingling as they hovered over his hip. It felt every bit like losing a life jacket after falling overboard. As if he were handing over some integral part of himself. Then insanity set in. He didn't _need_ his badge to get to Pearl. He needed only Pansy to do that, and that made him 100% certifiable.

He shoved his golden Auror Badge into Bobbi's outstretched hand. Then he really did stomp out.

oOo

Hermione blinked several times before glancing up at Bobbi, who looked almost calm? "Do you feel any better?"

"No," she straightened her white cloak with a sharp flap of movement and ran her hands down the front, smoothing out the thick fabric. "Not even a little bit."

She picked up her briefcase from the floor. "But Connor is ready to be royally pissed off at Neville after that debacle at St. Mungo's and is trying to convince Harry to bring Nev in for a full debriefing. This way, Nev will go follow his last lead and hopefully track down Ms. Parkinson instead."

"Ahh, so you fired him to… help him?"

"Maybe."

"Not how I would have done it," Hermione stood up, slowly, feeling more round every day and, to be honest, brutally defeated by her own horrible day. "I would have reminded him how good he is at his job, boost his confidence, remind him he is among friends."

"Right, that's the Gryffindor way. He's been spending all his time with Pansy Parkinson so-"

"So?"

" _So_ he'll only respond to abuse," Bobbi said, shutting the office door behind them.

"You expect me to believe your part of that fight was a ruse?" Hermione smiled when Ron walked up to join them as they stepped into the elevator, but the lot of them had been friends for many years now and she liked to think she knew Bobbi fairly well, enough to see that the woman was downright grouchy.

"You expect me to believe you aren't worried about him?" she countered instead of answering the question.

Hermione leaned into Ron, wondering how she would ever live this day down or if her feet would ever stop hurting. "Seeing as I've been his friend the longest, I think it's safe for me to say that as scary as it may seem… well I just happen to think Pansy is rather good for him. And I know nothing I say will convince either of you, but she motivates him."

Bobbi opened her mouth to respond but Ron interrupted her. "You promised me you weren't going to work late," he frowned even as he hit the button for the top floor. "Why are you still here?"

"I haven't been working," she told him. To Bobbi she said, "I don't think you're giving her enough credit."

"I'll give credit when she does something to help Neville and not herself. What's wrong? You look distressed."

Hermione sighed in the defeat of half a years work going down the drain. The Ministry's plan will fail, she felt certain. She leaned into her husband's arms and said, "The bill didn't pass. Lost by three votes. Wolves are now legally declared as dangerous creatures."

oOo

Neville jogged the steps up in the dark, ignoring his thudding heart and the tiny flutter of panic that came with the empty feeling on his hip. It was just a badge. Just a job. He could still finish this case, no one could stop him from doing that unless he did something illegal. Hell, even then… He still had a promise to keep and a purpose.

Even if he couldn't go back to being an Auror, they wouldn't keep him from his training duties. They couldn't. The physical training was more important than ever these days and there was none better than Neville in the whole country. He could still teach, still affect change at that level, still…

He shook himself, realizing he was grasping for straws. Only the staff of The Offices could access the training room. He wouldn't even be able to get in anymore.

All week long Bobbi had threatened to take his badge and how did he respond? He kept pushing her, ignoring her, and defying her orders. If he'd been in charge, he would have fired his ass a week ago after that whole mess at The Conservatory.

Misery settled uncomfortably in his gut.

"Just a job," he whispered as he reached the top and approached the only door with caution. Last time he'd been here had been a bloody occasion.

And the one and only time he'd ever witnessed Pansy close to tears.

He didn't think she realized that little fact, and he thought it best to keep it that way. He'd never actually seen her cry, and according to Hal he hadn't either. Her default was angry, so he had no problem imagining she didn't cry much at all…

And fresh off his fight with Bobs, he couldn't stop himself from noticing all the similarities between the two women. Headstrong, passionate, determined as hell. When Pansy fought with him, it was always to get something back in return even if only a little amusement. Somehow, in the come down after the fight, he had the sneaking suspicion he'd done exactly as Bobbi had wanted of him.

Or maybe he was in denial. "Just. A. Job."

The hall had been warded against Muggles and the moment he stepped through Theodore Nott's front door he also felt the anti-magic ward, a strong one, that he hadn't noticed last time. It made him even more curious to how Pearl Parkinson managed to contain Theo while she tortured the poor man. How did she subdue him without magic? If he remembered right, she wasn't much taller than Pansy.

"It's just a job," he reminded himself for a third and final time. He couldn't do this while wallowing in his own misery. Being an Auror didn't define him. He was…

He paused mid stride as he tried to finish that thought.

He had been an Auror since right after he left school if he counted training, thirteen years. He realized in all that time he never thought of himself as anything but. It left him feeling shaky and uncertain as if were a 1st year attending flying lessons again.

There wasn't much he could do about the shakes, so he took out his notepad and began searching the dark room. He could spend as much time as he wanted after this case was solved to come up with some acceptable adjectives to describe himself.

Just large enough to have a desk and a bed against one wall, a few bookshelves on the other, and a small kitchenette, the apartment should have felt tiny but for the 12 foot ceilings that rose up to a huge skylight. The building was tall enough and the skylight small enough that he couldn't see any other buildings through the window, only the dark night sky and the small amount of city light the window allowed through. Someone had straightened up and removed all the dark stains from the stripped bed. But he could still see signs of what had happened if he really looked.

The bed wasn't exactly centered against the wall and the desk looked cluttered in a way that said someone had been shoved against it with force. But he wasn't there to investigate Nott's death. He wanted information on Buchanan.

He'd figured that the group, Pansy and Astoria, Theodore and Draco, had been good friends despite their differences and Pansy knew Buchanan through Astoria, Daphne's little sister. If Pansy did, then Theo had to have known something as well.

Especially if he dealt in information, as Pansy said. Surely he kept a backup somewhere.

Neville searched the desk and came up empty except for a small bag of Glim shoved into the corner of one drawer wrapped in a crumpled piece of parchment that only said: _'I told you I was clean!'_. It sat on top a picture of a young girl, one Neville instantly recognized as Posy Parkinson.

She appeared years older than the last picture he'd seen her in, perhaps 7 or 8, her arms wrapped from behind the neck of Nott. They were making a funny face at each other over his shoulder but it gave Neville a steep insight to the nature of their relationship.

And Nott's relationship with Pansy.

For a fleeting second as he stood in the darkened, quiet room, Neville wondered what might've happened if Moreau hadn't gotten his filthy hands on Pansy and how much it would have altered her life.

If she would have ended up becoming the skilled fighter she is, becoming a huge pain in the neck... or... maybe she would've married Nott instead. Would she become a Spellthief? Would her path cross with Neville's at all? He couldn't see how. Her rage from that encounter had put her on the path that took her to Italy, the Academy of Immortals.

It was then he realized the depth of difference his adult life would have taken had that single, traumatizing event not happened to Pansy Parkinson. No late night street chases through Diagon Alley, spilling out into Muggle London. No banter or insults being thrown as they try to best each other. No fighting, getting rough and dirty, destroying potion shops and explaining to the shop owner that Pansy wasn't his damn girlfriend.

The lump in his gut that formed at the end of his fight with Bobbi grew even bigger, making him even more uncomfortable. Gently, he set the picture and the Glim back where he found it and turned from the desk in an attempt to forget his thoughts.

He switched to the bookshelf next, and began going through a thousand books that ranged from classical poetry to music and art theory to advanced software and math texts that made Neville go cross eyed. Until after an hour or so of searching he found in a small biography of David Popper a picture that fell from the pages and landed face down on the ground.

He knelt to flip the glossy paper over and felt a harsh chill as his vision filled with transparent flesh that somehow threw him off balance and froze him solid at the same time. "That's mine!"

The picture ripped from his hands and spiraled underneath the bed as the bookshelf next to him shook free from the wall, raining down scrolls and texts all around him. He covered his head and rolled the opposite way, towards the bed, and looked up to see Theodore Nott floating in front of him.

As a ghost.

"Holy fuck-"

"Don't. Touch. _Mine_!" His roar created a breeze strong enough to turn the desk chair in a small circle.

Theo floated in agitated movement across the floor and swung at him, his transparent arm going straight through Neville's head with an icy chill. "Argh! Stop!"

"No!"

But Theo jerked instead continuing his attack and disappeared the next moment without a trace, leaving a sudden quietness that burned Neville's ears. He hadn't had contact with a ghost since Hogwart's.

The feeling one he hadn't missed.

Neville breathed deeply for several moments before he cautiously sent his hand in search for the picture under the bed. He wasn't surprised to see the image was one of a Pansy, dark hair cut into a bob as she sat on the edge of a small boat, looking young and untouched by life. The surprising part was that she moved. Her lips turning up into a small smile like someone had told her a bad joke, as if she were resisting the pull of her own lips and couldn't.

"We were in Barcelona," Theo whispered to him appearing to sit on his old bed. "Before it all happened. Before _he_ ruined everything…"

He didn't need to explain further, Neville understood the timeline. The picture had been taken right after 7th year. Oh _Hell_.

Neville stood and gently placed the picture on the now empty bookshelf. "How does it still move?"

"Because it's her," Theo said as if that explained everything.

Maybe it did.

But Pansy wasn't why he was here, he came for information. He hardly thought he'd be able to get it from the source though. Many had speculated magical folk could no longer return as ghosts since magic began to diminish. The ghosts of Hogwart's had faded slightly, not so much that they were no longer present or couldn't communicate, but just enough that people noticed.

Theo looked to be almost solid though. The recently departed man wiped his face as if he were crying and Neville thought he had long overstayed his welcome. "I uh, I came because I-"

"I know why you're here, I'm dead, not an idiot." Theo sent a hateful glare in his direction, floating to his desk with dramatic fanfare Neville felt confident had nothing to do with his ghostly form and everything to do with just how Theodore Nott acted normally. "You want her."

He attempted to pick up the picture of Pansy, his fingers going through with frustrating huffs. "But she's mine, I won't tell you her safe house."

It seemed more difficult to pick up the truth from his words, his face didn't move as he spoke, not the way someone who was alive would move. Most people were more animated in their face while speaking than they realized. But Neville thought the first part of Theo's sentence sounded like a lie.

Rationally Neville knew he kept flipping, going from being wildly attracted to Pansy, especially when they fought, to happily never wanting to see her again. Right then he was firmly in the later category, maybe even… terrified of her. He swore he could still hear her song, haunting him, trying to lull him into sleep. "I came here in search of information on Garrett Buchanan," he said cautiously. "I'm not looking for Parkinson."

"Liar!" Neville prepared to move out of Theo's swing but instead found a transparent finger pointed right in his face instead. Not the first time that night someone had poked their finger into his face that night. "You are the reason that she isn't with me!"

"Me? Not the fact that you're…"

"DEAD?!"

"Well… there's also that bit of Glim I found in your desk."

He huffed and attempted to pick up the picture, failing immediately. "No! Look at your neck, I see her marks on your skin. You want her."

"What this?" Neville pointed to the cut. "You think this makes me want her? This makes me hate her."

"She loves you," he said, eyes going wide as he focused on that cut. "She swore she would never fall in love again, she promised me…"

"She promised you she would never find love?" Neville couldn't quite believe that, it certainly didn't sound like a healthy relationship.

"She promised she didn't love me, she wouldn't hurt me by falling in love with someone else," he almost sounded proud.

"Sounds like you're an asshole," Neville muttered.

"What do you know of our relationship? You couldn't possibly understand what happened between us!"

"I don't care to. She's a grown woman, and more she's the type that goes after what she wants. If she wanted to be with you, she would have been with you. That's what I know." As soon as the words were out he knew he made a mistake in saying them. First because he'd been put in a situation where he was actively defending Pansy Parkinson. But also because he'd forgotten that he was in fact speaking to a ghost, and not the human Theodore Nott.

Ghosts were emotional by nature, especially newer ones. The temperature in the room dropped so suddenly small ice crystals formed along the walls.

He rushed the words out, "Garrett Buchanan, you have info on him or not? Pretty sure neither of us wants to be here right now."

"I don't have a choice," Theo kicked the bed, his foot going through the mattress. "I won't give you any information. Your people took my laptop anyways, there's nothing here that can help you, only my death echoes."

"You're here," Neville said trying not to imagine exactly what a death echo was.

"Are you deaf? I just told you I wouldn't help."

"Then I'll leave you to your death echoes since you're useless," Neville turned towards the front door and took a step.

"I am not useless!"

"Yes, just a useless ghost," Neville turned and crossed his arms, thinking of the isolated apartment with the magic and steel reinforced door and the heavy anti-magic shield. "Useless and alone. No one else will come looking for you, will they?"

"Pansy will!-"

"You're dead, Nott. You really want her to come see you like this? Shouldn't she have the chance to move on? You're useless!"

"I am not! Not not not! I have information!"

"Then help me. I'm after Pearl Parkinson, and I want her locked up for her crimes. I assumed you wanted the same?"

Another huff. Another kick. "My laptop."

"If it's with the Aurors, I don't have access to your laptop right now."

"Daphne Greengrass-"

"She's dead."

"Malfoy then."

Neville shook his head. "He's… detoxing."

"Then… you need my laptop to find the information," Theo said stubbornly.

"Hell," he stood. "Never thought I'd meet anyone more obstinate than her but here you are. What do you want me to do? I'd rather never see her again but I won't stop until Pearl is locked up for her crimes and one of those crimes is your murder. I can't get to your laptop, if you know where Garrett Buchanan is, tell me. If not, tell me how to get to him, for fuck's sake!"

Oh hell… Neville didn't realize a ghost could throw such a tantrum. If Theo's body had been corporeal, Neville imagined the tiny room would no longer be upright. As it was, he had to take cover in the corner by the bed to avoid the objects falling from the bookshelves as Theo burst in and through the walls, wailing the entire time.

"I won't tell you, I won't. I can't lose her. I love her, she changed and I love her still I can't lose her, no no no." He blinked out of existence. He didn't go through a wall, he didn't float away. One moment he was there, the next… gone.

"Oh can't anything about this damn case be easy for once?!" Neville shouted at the empty room.

At the tail end of his words the mattress gave a giant heave and the entire thing, along with the box spring and wooden bed frame, upended and flipped over onto its side. The commotion knocked over half the bookshelves in the room and the desk chair before settling into a huge mess.

Another photo shook loose and landed next to his foot, its contents moving. Neville reached down to pick the picture up and was not surprised to see Pansy again. But the Pansy he was most familiar with, wild hair, dressed to kill, armed to the teeth, and looking far too attractive for his own good. She paced back and forth between the edges of the picture and grinned wickedly at him the entire time, flipping her dagger through her fingers as she so often did. She stopped and made a kissing gesture in taunt.

"Where the hell are you?"

A sultry shrug that pushed the edges of her breasts up against the confines of her leather vest.

His eyebrows shot up. "Are you flirting with me? Through a damn photograph?"

A slow shake of her head before she pointed her thumb behind her, as if telling him to 'get out of here'. Then she slinked off the edge of the picture with a wink, only a front door to a tall, white stone house with ivy draped down one wall remained.

His heart rate skyrocketed, and damn him for not stopping it. Alone in the quiet of the destroyed room with none of his friends around to distract him, he realized that while he could easily tell when others were lying, the ability did not so easily recognize the lie in himself.

The mess he stood in was evidence enough for why being attracted to Pansy Parkinson was a beyond terrible idea. Theodore Nott was sick in love with her even in death. Neville had even told her he wouldn't chase her any longer, yet the mere sight of that grin had him wishing he could find her… and not for any logical reason either. He wanted her.

oOo

Twice in his life Neville chased Pansy down this street. Both times were much the same situation. She stole something from Diagon Alley, he chased her into Muggle London, they went around in circles dodging pedestrians and cabs, only for him to lose her down this very neighborhood. The street was also the scene of the infamous shoulder stabbing and just looking at it had him rubbing his scar with his thumb, feeling the old ache come to life.

The houses that lined this small, relatively secluded neighborhood all screamed money. Old money. And privacy even more, based on the tightly wound fences that separated the properties. They increased in size towards the back, which seemed to dead end except for the small alley that connected it to the neighboring street. Neville always assumed Pansy led him down this road because the alley, an alley so small it looked more like a doorway, was not immediately noticeable and short enough that she could escape a pursuit quickly by that route.

The second time he chased her, bleeding from his shoulder, he'd broken off immediately and went to the next street to try to head her off. But she never reappeared from the alley.

Now he realized it was because she most likely went into one of these houses.

"'Course they all look alike," he said under his breath.

And they did, like a picture-perfect postcard. Six tall, white houses on each side. None of them stood out, none looked cleaner or dirtier than the other, all had the same wealthy architectural design of stone and iron. He pulled the pictures he stole from Nott's place from the inside of his jacket and carefully examined the the background of the second picture.

Of course, immediately the Pansy in the photograph reappeared by poking her head around the edge and grinning wickedly at him. Looking downright giddy.

She sauntered over to the steps that led to the front door and dramatically collapsed to the first stair, leaning back as if she were lounging on the beach instead of hard stone.

"I don't suppose you could get out of the way, could you? I'm kinda busy here."

She responded by stretching her legs out, taking up as much room in the picture as possible. The toe of her boot stuck straight up, making her leather clad leg look a mile long.

"That's mature," and he started poking at her with his finger. And laughing after she stumbled up and began fruitless dagger swings that did nothing to him as he pretended to squish her tiny head with his thumb and forefinger.

Finally, she stomped off with a glare and he was able to get a better look. He spent enough time studying the exact shape and lines of the stone that made up the front stairs and comparing it to the ones along the street that the night sky began to lighten. He worried that soon someone would notice him loitering about and he would have to start knocking on doors. The surrounding neighbors surely wouldn't be pleased at some dirty, roughed up, recently unemployed man waking them up at an ungodly hour, but the very idea of him knocking on Pansy Parkinson's door nearly had him in stitches.

He was about to do just that when he noticed something else.

There at the last house before the small alley, lay a small tendril of what looked like ivy. Ivy not present anywhere on any of the six houses. He checked the picture again, looked at the massive amount of ivy coming down the left side of the front door, so thick it covered every inch of the wall. Then back to the tiny bit of ivy on the sidewalk right in front of the alley.

Neville tucked the picture into his jacket pocket and stepped into the tiny alley, so tiny it spanned the length of his shoulders with barely any space left over. He felt the dark stone along the edge, up where it bridged into a pointed arch above his head, and then down the other side.

Nothing.

He turned sideways and managed to scoot along the dirty walls to the other end, stepping out into the neighboring street where he repeated the search on that side. "C'mon, you have to be here."

He half expected a hidden passage, from the way things had gone lately, but he crammed himself into the alley and felt up every piece of stone and brick from top to bottom and found nothing. No hidden trigger, no hidden passageway, no nothing besides dirty wall.

Stumbling back out, Neville wiped his hands on his jeans before kneeling down on the spot before the ivy, the sun growing ever higher in the sky. Exhaustion made his already strained muscles turn even tighter and his eyes feel gritty, but the alternative was for him to go home, which was destroyed, and lie awake thinking about things he didn't want to think about… like his fight with Bobs and why the hell she seemed hell bent on yelling at him. Or worse, Pansy. He hadn't been home since the night he spent with her.

The thought of his unmade bed waiting at home helped him reach out and grab the end of the ivy. All at once, the entrance of the alley turned into an ivy covered wall that towered over him. And to his right, the front door from the picture.

All the times he chased her, only to lose her, and she had a home in one of the nicest areas of the city magically concealed. He wasn't surprised in the least, and he decided he wasn't knocking either.

Caution be damned, she ran from him and he found her. If only he was there to arrest her, but that particular fantasy had somewhere along the way lost all its appeal and as he turned the square door knob and pushed the door open, his heart rate skyrocketed yet again as he wondered what exactly he would find.

Through the early morning darkness he could see a wooden stairway to his left leading up, and a hallway in front of him that spit out into a kitchen. All dark wood and dusty ceilings, obviously Pansy didn't spend much time here. He shut the door quietly behind him and stepped down the hall, listening to the absolute silence in the dark house.

The floors should have been creaky, but somehow he wasn't surprised when they made no noise as he walked down the hall and stepped into the dark, cluttered kitchen. He didn't see her at first, too distracted by the wall of weapons that came into view the closer he got to the wide doorway.

In the dusty morning sunlight streaming low through one window, he could just make out where the cabinets must have been attached to the wall at one point before they were removed. Removed to make room for a plethora of weapons that put shame to any previous collection he'd seen, a collection he wasn't surprised in the least to see in Pansy's home. The middle section consisted of mostly knives, sharp and threatening they drew his eye until he noticed a slightly darker shadow on the far side of the room.

She sat crossed legged on the counter, a fresh bandage on her neck and a bottle of whiskey beside her. She had changed into tight, black pants and a matching tank top that did nothing to hide the fresh cuts and bruises on her arms, as well as her old scars.

But what really caught his attention was the crossbow in her hand, the point of a bolt aggressively turned in his direction.

"You know how to use that?" he asked softly, raising his hands to show he held no weapons of his own.

"Even better is my aim," she gave him a smile full of teeth. "You're familiar with how great my aim is aren't you?"

"Why'd you run? Don't you want to finish this?" He took a hesitant step forward, trying to get a better look at her.

"Don't move unless you want a bolt through your neck."

From enemies to lovers to enemies again, but his fight with Bobbi had drained him to exhaustion and the mere sight of Pansy with her crossbow had his blood rushing with excitement.

"Would you? After everything we've gone through the last few days?" Because he couldn't be the only one feeling the effects of their forced time together. He couldn't be the only one going crazy.

"I won't let you arrest me, I won't be locked up again."

"I can't arrest you."

"Aww, have you found a soft spot for me? Tsk tsk. Attachment can be dangerous. A moment's hesitation is all I need, you know. _Zzzzsssiiiip_." She mimed the crossbow going off, the sound effect to go with it. "They'll be burying you beside all my old friends."

"No…" he started cautiously, hearing the ache in her voice. Time to distract her, and hopefully get that crossbow pointed elsewhere. "I no longer have the authority to arrest you," he said, lowering his hands and shoving them in his pocket. He watched her eyes go to his hip, widen in surprise.

"What would I arrest you for this time?" he continued. "I've called you my fair share of impolite names, but being a siren isn't a crime. Unless... Have you sung any unsuspecting men to their death lately? All you did was help someone who needed it. That's not a crime."

Her jaw locked and he prepared to dodge away from her bolt, knowing she would shoot him out of pure spite though he couldn't be sure what he said that made her so angry.

"You don't know shit, Longbottom. What the hell are you doing in my house? Aren't you working an important case?" and she threw the crossbow into her sink with a loud clank.

She was pissed at him, but after their last conversation he wasn't sure she had any right to be.

And the old argument rolled right off his tongue. "Yes. So why the hell am I chasing around after you? Again."

Her eyes turned sharp in his direction. "I didn't make you do a thing, Longbottom. You're the one who swore you were done chasing after me. Better question is how the hell did you find me? No one knows where I live."

"I lost track of you down this street twice. Twice. The second time right after you stabbed me in the shoulder!"

"God damn you and that shoulder!" she screamed, hopping off the counter and standing before him. Her hand came up, the tip of a small dagger pointed right over his chest. "I WAS AIMING FOR YOUR HEART!"

"THEN WHY DID YOU MISS?" he bellowed loudly right back at her, the very subject of their discussion beating rapidly as they fought. He couldn't tell if it was fear or excitement that had his heart pumping so hard he couldn't find breath. But the question remained valid. They had just talked about her aim, and her jest about how good it was wasn't an exaggeration.

Their fight years ago that led to her stabbing him in the shoulder had always been a fight he revisited and thought about often. Especially since the consequence of icy aches deep by the bone kept him up more nights than not.

But he always knew, as the dagger had come closer to him, at the last second she had changed the direction of her thrust so that the bitterly sharp point of her dagger went into the fleshy bit of his shoulder, right beneath the clavicle, instead of plunging right into his damn heart.

Blinking faster than usual, she took a deep calming breath, and he realized her eyes were still glittering. Even after more than half a day later and she was still under the effects of Glim. "It wasn't me," she said softly.

"It most certainly was you that stabbed me right here," he yanked his jacket aside and his shirt down to show her the scar, as if she weren't already familiar.

"I meant -" she groaned and pushed away. "Oh forget it, you wouldn't believe me anyways."

Oh. Is that why she was pissed at him? Because he hadn't believed her earlier? He watched her sing over twenty people to sleep, while dosed up with Glim and bleeding from the neck. How could he believe it was The Fern, as she said, when The Conservatory had studied the plant for weeks before she stole it and every day since, and not once had produced even an ounce of the power she had.

"See?" She leaned against the sink and took another deep breath. "Now you're afraid of me."

"Anyone with half a brain cell would be afraid of you. You sang a little lullaby and dropped a room full of people. I've always been afraid of you."

Nodding, her lips pinching tightly, she stomped away, down the hall as if he'd given the answer she expected. But he wasn't nearly done with her.

"Come back here. Why the hell are you so pissed at me?" Always chasing her.

"Did anyone follow you? I don't want anymore unwanted visitors." She marched up to the front door and opened it, gesturing for him to leave. And he just caught when she stumbled ever so slightly before she stood still.

"Parkinson," he growled. "Finish this case with me. We're so close."

"Does anyone else know where I live?" she snapped the question through clenched teeth.

He wouldn't get anything out of her until he answered, he realized. "No, no one followed me. No one knows I'm here."

"Are you sure you didn't blab to your little friends?"

"Damn it, woman."

"No? Great. Now get out before I throw you out."

"I'm. Not. Leaving."

"No one but Theo knew where my house is in this country and you just show up, uninvited. And afraid."

"Why does that anger you so much?" He meant what he said, anyone with even an ounce of common sense would be terrified of this woman and he thought that should have been the whole point.

"I warned you," her fist curled around the door, but he suspected it was more to help her stand upright than anything else. A fight would be heavily in his favor with her still dosed up.

Neville did not think it a good idea to tell her about Theo and his new ghostly form, not that he didn't think she could handle it, but rather because she was already more than distracted by this case. Her personal connections were all over the place, and it became more and more obvious to him as their conversation continued that she was still heavily under the influence, no matter how much she tried to hide it.

Arms crossed, he held his stance.

A grin full of teeth before her toe came out and pushed into a small board in the wooden floor. Something hard hit him in the back of the head and he had a brief moment to think that yeah, a fight between them would have been in his favor… if it had been fair. But Pansy didn't play fair, she fought dirty every time.

And everything went black.

oOo

He came to all at once, and found himself face to face with several angry faced babies all looking down at him that he didn't immediately notice the woman sitting directly on him. It was downright terrifying. "Argh!"

"Oh you're awake. That was fast. You've only been out for fifteen minutes or so."

He bucked up but, other than Pansy's minuscule weight, he was bound to a solid headboard with shimmering chains that managed to actually restrain him. He tugged but to no avail. Then he realized his head was throbbing.

"What the hell did you hit me with?"

"So strong," she ignored his question. He felt her fingers running down his chest over his shirt and he got the impression she only just got him tied up. "It's three feet thick, that headboard you're attached to. Made of marble. Ungodly thing. This was my Aunt Trina's bedroom when she lived here. Whatever she did, I cannot remove it. Which is why I sleep in the smaller bedroom."

Ungodly was right. The marble had been carved into a scene of cherub angel babies and grotesque demons battling on an heavenly backdrop. How anyone could have slept, and slept peacefully, under such a sight was beyond him. But the chains that bound him had his attention. "And these?"

He looked up to her and spotted the glitter in her eyes and the frown on her face. "Oh just a little something I had lying around. Unbreakable. Great for all sorts of things like tying up my enemies… or a little light bondage." A quick smirk, before she tugged on both chains. "I was almost asleep when you so rudely broke into my house. I just need to sleep. Stay here for a bit, while I do that."

"Don't you dare leave me here," he warned, and sat up as much as the chains would allow. He managed to slide his back up against the lumpy marble. He wouldn't have done it if he knew how much Pansy enjoyed him struggling beneath her. But her smile never quite reached her eyes.

"You'll be fine, as long as you're sure no one else will come looking?"

"No one knows I'm here-"

"Goooood, good." She hopped up and pulled a musty smelling blanket over his legs. "Stay put."

He watched her leave from his position on the bed and wondered why the hell he even bothered. "I thought you wanted me to leave! Why am I tied up!?"

"You ticked me off," her voice floated into the room.

"You ticked me off first," he muttered under his breath, then he began tugging on the chains with all his might. They might be unbreakable, but the headboard was not. Every tug came with a power word. "Annoying - loudmouth - obnoxious - conniving - insane - vulgar - hellion-of-a-witch."

He couldn't believe she tied him up, no wait. He absolutely could believe that he marched his idiotic ass down there only to get knocked out and tied up by Pansy Parkinson when all he wanted to do was solve his damn case! Worse, the whole situation just proved Bobbi right. He was acting irrational. Pansy kept proving to him how untrustworthy she remained and yet here he was. Weak and drugged up and he still managed to completely underestimate her.

Would he ever learn?

It took another thirty minutes, and all of his strength as well as every swear word he knew, before the marble gave it. At first a long crack appeared where one chain attached to the marble, then it cracked into pieces all at once, crumbling into dust, and both chains released from the headboard. Rolling out of the bed, he wrapped the chains around his wrists to get them out of his way, then patted himself down.

She hadn't checked his pockets.

Neville still had the diamond, Pansy's dagger, and his wand.

His damn wand.

How could he have forgotten about that? He had the diamond. He could do magic, for fuck's sake!

Icy cold power washed over him the moment his wand came to hand and it surged him to leave the room and stomp across the hall into the other open door, his arm raised ready to shield and unafraid of magic not working for him this time. He expected to find her asleep and relished in the idea of jerking her awake and demanding answers and making her pay for knocking him out and tying him up, for his foolish trust in her, for the hell they'd been through the last week. He prepared a line of curses, both magical and verbal.

Instead, he found an empty, unmade canopy bed with dark purple and white drapes stacked high with pillows on the opposite wall. A chair in the corner had a bag full of weapons, one he recognized from that night at The Conservatory. Along the walls were, surprise, more weapons. More daggers.

"See something you like?"

He jumped, and looked to the side. She sat cross legged, leaning her forehead against a floor to ceiling mirror that broke the wall up into two sections. Looking forlorn. And angry.

"What the hell woman," he trained his wand on her.

"I expected that to take up more of your time," she told him with a sigh, leaning harder against the mirror. She didn't care that he pointed his wand at her, that he was so pissed off.

She seemed to be examining her eyes in her reflection.

"Stand up," he held steady. He wouldn't be taken unawares again, but then he spotted the pictures on the floor between her and the mirror, and that bottle of whiskey.

She _had_ gone through his pockets. And left his wand and the diamond? She left the dagger? He paused, unsure of why she would do such a thing. Then she spoke. "I keep imagining if it had been you instead of me that found Sean and Daphne."

He dropped his wand arm and exhaustion hit him hard. He couldn't harm her, not with her looking so damn pitiful. He knew she was anything but, and if she knew he thought of her as pitiful she would probably bring out the damn crossbow again and shoot him in the heart. But he couldn't help how he felt, cursing her right now would feel little better than kicking a puppy.

Still, he couldn't completely lower his guard. "Are you going to knock me out again?"

"Maybe not today," she said carefully, sounding as tired as he felt.

It would have to do. He put away his wand and, ignoring the screaming voice in the back of his mind that said he should not be doing this, sat down next to her and leaned against the mirror himself.

"She couldn't have tortured me the way she did to you," he told her gently.

"No," her chin turned stubborn and Neville instantly felt mesmerized by the lines of her face. Picking up the bottle beside her, she drank heavily of its contents. "Daphne could have done much worse to you. She could have made you do to Annie what she made Sean do."

He didn't realize his fist had curled until his fingers began cracking. Forcing a breath, he slowly released his hand and said, "Would that have been worse?"

"I can - I _have_ \- survived Jac," she said thoughtfully, finally turning her head to look at him. "I don't know that you could live with yourself though."

"You resisted the compulsion," he said instead of outright agreeing. If he had fallen victim to Daphne and her Glimmer that could compel, and committed such a horrible act against Annie, he wouldn't have been able to live with himself. Not ever.

"Pain helped me," she wrapped fingers around her neck. "When you held me here, it helped clear my head. But... Sean would have been in a world of pain, why didn't he break the compulsion like I did? Because he's a wolf or, maybe, you did me a favor when you killed Daph."

He sucked in a breath. "I didn't kill her."

Panic threw her, sending her up to her feet. "Wait, Pansy." He reached out and brought her back down to her knees, holding her steady. "Daphne is dead, Annie is the one who killed her."

"Annie?" Pansy grabbed his shoulders, searching his face. "Good. That'll help."

"Did it help you?"

Pansy's legs folded under her, but she held firm onto his shoulders. When she settled back down, she sat closer than before. "Sometimes," she said. "Not right now, I need sleep. I can't stop feeling him. Right here."

She dragged a finger down her throat, further down her chest and between her breasts. The compulsion had faded before she left St. Mungo's, but after she barely managed to make it home, the Glimmer began to make her feel itchy and uncomfortably hot. A mixture of arousal and illness. As if her nightmare were still present but not visible to her senses.

It had taken hours and hours to get comfortable.

"I can fight all day but how do you fight your own skin?" Then she sneered at him, digging her fingers into his shoulder. "Ahh, I was almost asleep when you showed up. And with these."

He laid the pictures out so they faced her, stacked in a neat row. "You tell me why you're so angry with me and I'll tell you about the pictures."

Her fingers dug painfully into his shoulder one more time before her arm dropped and she sat back. Such a loaded question she didn't know how to begin to answer. "I won't bore you with the details of my relationship with Theo, but we both contributed to the dissolution of it. Violently, furiously, and with a lot of hate. But nothing he ever did or said was worse than when I realized he was terrified of me, because by then I finally felt myself. By then I had found control. And it wasn't good enough for him."

"And that has to do with me how?"

Under his scrutiny she shook a bit, looking unsure. "You think I'm a siren. Let me tell you, if I could compel, if I could force someone to do something against their will, then I would take myself out. Apparate off a bridge. Anything, because I couldn't be like him. Like Jac."

He decided to ignore the last thing she said, for now. "If you're trying to tell me that The Fern made everyone fall asleep-"

"I can do what The Fern can," she admitted quietly. "Just not as well."

"What? What does The Fern do?"

"It gives, it _forces_ peace. I can do that, with my song. Only," she emphasized, "if I have peace to give."

She sighed heavily, and then told him about 7th year. Feeling so afraid, for her friends and for the war, feeling stuck on the wrong side of things and unsure of what to do. Figuring out that Amycus Carrow liked to prey on little girls had his fists curling again, but then Pansy told him what came next.

"I looked so much younger than I was. Tory and I looked the same age, she and I would lure him to the dormitories and then I'd sing to him. He'd fall asleep none the wiser and leave the other students alone. But I _needed_ Tory to do it. I can't give peace I don't have, and I'm so rarely at peace. I was so doped up at St. Mungo's, so you see? I needed The Fern. I couldn't have done what I did without it."

It took a long time for him to digest her words and get over the heavy anger he always felt when his 7th year at school ever came up. But the Carrows were dead and Pansy… she survived. She wasn't just powerful… she was _a_ power. And like him, including him, everyone always underestimated her, always expecting far less than what they got. Still, he searched her words for any lies and heard none.

He knew her better than anyone. He never heard of her doing anything remotely similar to what happened at St. Mungo's before, and if she could do that, he thought he might have heard about before then. Finally he had to ask, "What does that-"

"Because you're afraid of me now," she rushed out. "And I hate that. I hate that so much. There I said it. I'm not high anymore, I'm not in danger. There's no legit reason for me to act so dramatic but-"

He stopped her. "I really wish that you would stop comparing me to the men who ruined your life. Can you please hold me to a higher standard?"

"I - what?"

"I'm not worse than him." He told her firmly, as he wanted to do since their confrontation at St. Mungo's. He would argue her everyday, all day until she took it back. He was not worse than scum like Moreau. He tapped the picture that Theo tried to take his head off for finding, the one of Pansy long ago. "And it sounds to me like Theo's a coward. He loved this girl, didn't he? And what happened to her?"

"You know," she turned her head, looked away in shame.

"Yeah. She died." Her head whipped back around and he tore the picture into halves, then again before dropping them to the floor without a care. "Gone."

"You're right," Pansy's voice turned raspy. "She did die. Jac killed her."

"No, you did." He pushed the other picture towards her. "You killed her. Moreau didn't make you go to self defense classes, you did that. He didn't make you go to a trainer. _You_ did that. He didn't make you stick with it even though I know you wanted to give up. That was all you, kitty cat. I spent all night with this girl. I'd pick her over the other any day, terrifying as she is, she's tough, gritty. And mouthy."

"What's with the honesty?"

"We're both too tired to do anything else?" He picked up the picture, watched the photograph Pansy clap for him, give a steamy wink. "I don't give a shit about Nott," he continued. "He doesn't like you as you are, that's his problem. I would never make you promise not to fall in love with someone else."

The real Pansy took the picture from his hands, threw it over her shoulder, and crawled into his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist. "How the hell do you know about that?"

Fuck, he didn't want to tell her about Theo. He placed his hands on her hips. "You have your ways, I have mine."

A dangerous gaze had his breath hitching, one that she held as she pressed closer until their bodies were flush against one another. But it passed and she said, "You'd pick her, are you sure? Didn't you say, oh what was it? She's so… Annoying? Loudmouth? Obnoxious-"

"Conniving, insane, and vulgar," he completed for her with a grin, his hands moving on their own to come up her back and pull her even closer. He wanted to kiss her, but though she had told him she wasn't high anymore, her eyes still glittered, a clear sign of Glimmer in her system.

She obviously felt the same though.

He stopped her when she moved to come in for kiss. "I can't."

"Why the hell not? You started this."

"You're still high," he shook his head. "I can't."

"This again? You aren't taking advantage of me, or should I remind you it was _me_ that tied you up. Two, I'm not high."

"Your eyes-"

"Alcohol dilutes the blood, drives the Glim away. Trust me, I've had lots of practice getting Theo sober," she told him bitterly.

He groaned, "So you're drunk."

"Hardly. Stop being so damn noble. Am I slurring? Uncoordinated?" Her hand slid into his hair and gripped the strands harshly, tugging his head towards hers. "I'll stop comparing you to my ex if you treat me like someone who can make decisions about her own body."

He kissed her. Mostly to shut her up. But also because he didn't want to admit... she was right.

* * *

 _Next chapter is... the last chapter! :)_


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N:** This chapter contains smut, violence, child abuse, mana bombs, and a lot of sarcasm. Enjoy! :)

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty One**

(The one with the little wolf)

It wasn't tender, as he expected. Like always, their kiss was all tongue and teeth and fighting for control. He would give in, sensing she needed to be in control, but he couldn't just hand over the reigns right away. He had to make her work for it first. Make it believable.

So he brushed his fingers over her skin at the place between her breasts and then upwards, retracing the path she'd shown him earlier in their conversation only this time in reverse. His hope was to drive all thought of Moreau from her mind, and leave nothing but himself. He reached her throat and purposely, very carefully, ran his thumb along the column of her neck to the tip of her jaw avoiding the edge of her bandage.

He waited for her eyes to open, waited to see the deep indigo color he was so familiar with, and when they finally blinked open he grabbed at her jaw and increased the pressure of their kiss as if he were trying to take over.

It worked.

She pushed on his shoulders, using her body to flatten him to the ground. Even prepared to resist her, he didn't compensate for the full force of her shove and his head slammed into the hardwood floor below them as he went backwards. "Ahh-"

"Aww, did that hurt?" She rose above him, breath ragged from their kiss. She loved the feeling of power she got from their position, straddling his hips with one hand gripping his head. More, she enjoyed the look in his eyes that said he _also_ liked their current situation. Her fingers found the sore spot and rubbed in. "Should I make it better?"

His hand wrapped around her other wrist and brought her hand to the top of his jeans in response. "Knowing you, you'd just make it worse."

For whatever reason, his words brought a massive grin to her face. "Aw, what are friends for?"

She meant the words in jest, the flirting that came after their heavy, but honest conversation somehow had her lowering her guard and they slipped out without her thinking. Sitting up, she held her hands to her chest and tried to breathe through it.

"Okay?" he asked softly, immediately sensing something was wrong.

No. _No friends._

"No, actually. I don't want to be your friend." She couldn't have friends. Her entire life Pearl made sure any relationships Pansy developed were slowly squashed into distrust. Only Draco had been safe. Later, she made damn sure everyone knew she wasn't a friendly. And still, look what happened to Theo.

More, she _certainly_ didn't want to be a friend of Neville's, the possessiveness she felt towards him wasn't platonic in any way, shape, or form. "I don't want to be your friend. I don't want to be friendly with you, Longbottom."

It came from a place of wanting to protect him, horrified to imagine him with a thousand cuts in his chest, a well of blood across his skin, but by the look he gave her she realized her words had only hurt him. Before she could say what she actually meant, he pushed her off and got to his feet, shaking out his hands.

"I see," he took position at the end of her bed, leaning back against one of the tall posts, arms crossed. So angry. "So first you convince me to sleep with you, then you turn around and tell me we can't be friends."

"You know what I want?" She rolled up onto her feet and bounced over to him.

"Looks like I don't care anymore," he grabbed her by the wrist when she went to put her hand on his shoulder. But he knew better than to think she would give him any space.

"Too bad. You're going to hear it anyways." She crowded him into the post, a feat that should have been impossible considering her size. Then she looked up to him, put both hands on his shoulders, and pushed them both against that post, her eyes doing more to hold him there than anything. "I won't be your friend, because I want to be the woman you can't ever forget."

He sucked in a breath. So this is what they were doing? He long ago accepted their relationship didn't operate within any functional, _rational_ parameters. Why not fuck it up some more? Why not drive them both even crazier? She went from hot to cold in the blink of an eye and then goes and says something like that?

"I want to be the woman you compare all other women to," she pushed impossibly closer, her voice husky and mean. "When you're with them, I hope you can't stop thinking about me. I hope you can't even look them in the eye. Because they'll never kiss you like I kiss you."

He couldn't help himself. His hand slid into her hair and he gripped the strands harshly, leaning his head down towards hers. She pissed him off and he was going to show her exactly how he felt about that.

There was nothing sweet about their kiss this time, no easing into it to give her time to adjust.

It was teeth and bite and harsh breaths as they tried to dominate one another with their mouths. It was mean and raw until both their bodies were humming, and this time he wasn't going to give her an ounce of control. They moved at the same time, one of his hands sinking down to grab her ass, the other coming up to wrap around her throat. She jumped into his hold, wrapping strong legs around his hips, and their kiss turned sharp. Deadly sharp.

Pulling away with a lick of her lips, she continued. "They won't fuck you like I fuck you, Neville Longbottom."

 _Damn her._

He pushed her away, hard, watching her stumble in surprise. He had to, to hold on to his sanity. The separation felt like a cauterized wound. He wiped at his lips and wasn't surprised when his hand came away with blood smeared on his palm. He spoke without thinking. "Would you even let me?"

She backed up and leaned against the mirror, chest heaving, biting down on swollen lips. The satisfaction of knowing he did to her what she did to him was no small thing, and it kept him around when he should've _left._ Why the fuck didn't he just leave? "Let you what?" she spit out, her temper turning icy.

"Touch another woman?" He stood across from her and ignored the way his skin heated, his desire to stomp across the room and take her body for his own. _God,_ he wanted to make her scream. To fuck her right against that mirror so he could see everything they did to each other. His words turned her eyes dark, matching his own mood, so he kept going. He could punch too, _wanted_ to punch back. "Would you let me take another woman to my bed?"

No one was better at managing their body language, but he watched with increasingly smug satisfaction as her fists curled and her eyes turned hard, giving away just how possessive she felt at that moment. "Would you let me learn her body, find out what pleasures her, the same way I did you?"

His feet moved without his permission, stomping across the room just like he'd imagined before. "Answer the question, Parkinson." Fingers wrapped around her neck, as he often did, and she leaned her head back, giving him an angry, stubborn look. He squeezed, and he received a harsh breath through her teeth in return. "What would you do if I _fucked_ another woman?"

"You don't," a gasp when his fingers squeezed even harder around her neck. "-control me."

"No, I don't. It's you who controls me, why the hell can't I stay away?" He flipped her, pressed her against the wall. She turned her head to press the side of her face against the mirror, eyes looking back at him over her shoulder. Her hands traveled up the mirror and her palms pressed flat. Pushing the thick rope of her hair over her other shoulder, he slid his hand down the length of her spine. He _loved_ her back. Strong, lithe muscle. All hard angles that proved this woman went to severe lengths to shape her body into one that could fight, to protect itself.

His fingers reached her lower back, the strip of skin revealed by the shortness of her top pale but smooth. He continued lower, pushing underneath the tightness of her pants. He palmed her ass and leaned in, bracing his elbow against the mirror just above her. "Answer the question."

Her back arched, pressing into him. The wicked smile she sent him only ramped up his desire. "No. I like it when you're angry."

Shaking his head, he yanked her pants down rough enough to make her to gasp. He was back and pressed against her before she even realized he'd moved, her pants pushed to her ankles exposing everything below her belly button. Cold air whispered between her legs as he spread them, further pushing her against the mirror. His hand covered hers, pressed against that mirror, the other slid between them. She heard his zipper and decided he wasn't mad enough yet. "Is this the best you can do, Longbottom?"

He jerked her body back, hand on the back of her head forcing it to lean forward. Forehead pressing against the mirror, she looked down, and realized exactly what he'd done.

 _Oh God._

She watched the reflection of them in the mirror, her legs spread, his hand bracing her against the mirror, his legs keeping her trapped, and his other hand…

It traveled around her hip to her front, sliding down bare flesh with a rough caress until he reached the vee of her thighs. She tried, she tried so hard, not to let herself tremble. Not to give in. But his fingers spread her delicate flesh and she watched it happen as if in slow motion. No, not slow motion. He was just that fucking slow and she hated it when he went slow!

"Now!" She demanded, breath fogging the mirror in front of her. "Don't play around."

"I'm not playing. Answer the question." His voice low and dangerous, but she could hear the agony too. This was killing him just as much as her. A single, blunt finger, slid against her liquefied flesh. A tease, a bare whisper of what she wanted.

"Longbottom," she threatened. She tried to angle herself, to take that finger, but his grip was pure steel.

"Would you let me love another woman?" His voice in her ear, breath against her neck, and his finger dipped into her in a quick thrust, the visual of his arm moving as he did nearly had her coming right there and then.

She groaned, and let her eyes flutter close.

Until he pushed harshly against her. "Keep your eyes open!"

Her eyes snapped open and she watched in the mirror as he fingered her, her obsession with his knuckles finding new life. They moved hard. Relentless. Not stopping until she was just at the cusp, her breath fogging the mirror with every gasp and moan. When she thought he'd push her over, he stilled.

"No! Don't you fucking stop!" She commanded him, though he only laughed in her ear. "Now!"

"Answer me." He started again, finger fucking her until her inner muscles trembled, until she screamed how close she was, until just before she came - _he stilled again._

" _Answer_ the question." Fuck, he was pissed.

"No," her eyes looked up and met his through the mirror.

He thought she was refusing.

She couldn't control the angry look on her face, the thought of him with someone else bringing forth an ugly demon of emotion, one with claws. "If you touch, if you look at another woman, if you even _think_ about another woman, I'll shred her to pieces and then I'll do the same to you."

He was so quick, grabbing her thigh and pushing it up, eyes interlocked through the mirror, his cock pushed into her from behind in a hard, demanding thrust that had her screaming, coming around him in a rage. He didn't wait for her to come down, didn't wait for her to get used to his size. He pushed them both against the mirror and she had no choice but to watch him pinned her and fucked her with unforgiving fury.

Completely, and totally, overwhelming her every sense.

Their position had him _deep_ , stretching inner muscles that should have hurt from the hard abuse of his strokes. Instead the pleasure was intense, so sharp she almost blacked out.

And he didn't stop. Not when she ran out of breath, not when she screamed. Not when the strength of his thrusts and his grip made the mirror around her shatter outwards. Not when she did something she'd never done with a lover, and cried out his name as she came for the second time. " _Neville!"_

Her shout did something to him, _changed_ something in him, and in the blink of an eye he had her position changed, turning her around and pressing into her front, trapping her against the wall. With one swift move, he tore the front of her shirt into two and pulled the remnants from between them. Her breasts crushed into his chest as he crowded her again. She felt the solid length of him press into her, filling her up.

"You think you've seen violence from me?" He wrapped his hand around her throat, the action becoming an intimate habit, and started his thrusts again. Slower. Somehow harder. "You ever let another man touch you and I'll show you true violence."

"Why would I?" With her hands now free she wrapped her arms around his neck and indulged in a kiss made possible by the slowness of his movements. "Why would I want anyone besides you touching me? You feel so good."

"You better not be messing with me right now," he groaned, trying to get even closer. Pumping her up with slow, deep thrusts. The hand around her throat traveled up behind her ear, fingers spearing her hair.

"No surprise," she paused to cry out, her fingers digging into his shoulder and neck. "But I usually hate being touched. And-" another cry, her nails broke the skin as she dug in, "- I hate going _slow."_

"Really? You seem to be," he had to pause that time, feeling her inner muscles clench tightly around him as he stroked his cock in and out of her with agonizing slowness. "- enjoying it," he continued to move inside her, listening to her harsh breaths before he realized what his words meant. The look on her face might have clued him in, one that said ' _ex-actly!'_.

"You _are_ slow," she teased him and their banter turned his movements sharper. But she couldn't stop herself from leaning her head back nor the loud moan that accompanied it.

"Uh uh, eyes on me, Parkinson." He forced her head back to his level, their eyes connecting again, his other arm pushed one leg even further up, allowing for deeper strokes. "Don't look away. Don't look away."

It was the most intimate, _most_ vulnerable she could remember feeling in a long time. Yet, she felt completely in control of both herself and of him. With her fingers she came up to brush over his cheeks as he kept her pinned, as he fucked her slow and deep, she knew if she asked him to stop, he would. If she asked him to go faster, he would.

She wouldn't have to _make him_. Sex would never been a weapon to Neville, he only wanted to make them both feel the maximum amount of pleasure possible and then some. His focus on nothing else.

"Come here," she pulled his face down to hers, eyes wide open, and their foreheads pressed together. Their breathing mingled, then synced, eyes locked, and they continued like that until they shook with the force of each other's orgasm.

Afterwards, he took her to the bed where she curled up on her side and watched as he pulled off the rest of his clothing he hadn't managed to get rid of before. His mouth opened to speak. "Don't say it."

"Don't say what?" he asked, realizing he thoroughly enjoyed when sex made her voice turn extra raspy.

"The look on your face, I can tell. You want to say something sweet to me," she said the word 'sweet' as if it were anything but. "Like tell me I'm safe."

Ahh… back to that. And Neville had a sneaking suspicion that this particular insecurity of hers stemmed from something Nott had done. His initial response was to argue, and tell her exactly how safe she truly was. Anyone with her skill set, her defensive capabilities aside, could easily keep themselves safe from a multitude of threats. But he also knew she would never believe him.

Instead, he continued undressing and slowly pulled her dagger from his jacket pocket. Her signature blade. The one no matter how many other weapons she possessed or hung on the walls she would always prefer. He picked up her hand and wrapped her fingers around the hilt, giving her a smile. A real one. "Like you would ever listen to me anyways, Kitty cat."

He leaned in and kissed her forehead before crawling under the blankets beside her. "But you are safe, whatever you might think. I'm safe too." He closed his eyes. "So long as you don't stab me again."

oOo

On her bedside table sat her beloved blade, the _Dolce Mela_ , as well as Neville's wand which lay across the picture she once took for Theo. He had complained of not having a recent photograph of her, to which she asked what the point was, when pictures didn't move anymore?

Except the new picture did move.

Looking back, she felt glad she'd taken the picture for exactly the way Neville had used it to prove his point. It showed the very embodiment of the kind of person she wanted to be, all smiles and confidence, looking like she could take on the world in her leathers, looking sexy and strong at the same time. In control.

Sometimes getting the confirmation that a man wanted you that way, the way Neville had, well it was enough to lift the cloud of what Daphne did to her, of what _she_ had done to Sean. It was enough to remind her of the apology she owed.

The sight of the picture happened to be the first thing she saw when she woke up, having made herself doze lightly for only a few hours.

Next to Neville.

The only person she willingly slept next to in years. And while they slept, he hadn't gone cave man on her, he hadn't wrapped around her, hadn't cuddled her close as lovers so often did. Likely because he sensed he'd pushed her to the limit of intimacy that morning. Instead, he had a single hand wrapped softly around her upper arm as he lay on his stomach. As if even in sleep he couldn't stand to let her go.

She really, stunningly, wanted to apologize to him for what she said at St. Mungo's. And Pansy did _not_ apologize. Not for her behavior, not ever.

But.. She told him he was worse than Jac, the man who kidnapped her and held her captive for a week. When in truth, there was no comparison. Neville would put himself in the line of fire to help someone he didn't even know, and Pansy didn't have to imagine the lengths he would go to for someone he really cared for.

She blamed the Glim, all three horrible doses, but even that wasn't enough to settle the guilt. In the past, she called him quite a few horrible names. Ran him in circles. Physically harmed him. Hell, she'd held a knife to his throat more than once.

But comparing him to Jac did not sit well on the stomach.

Pansy allowed herself exactly half a minute to watch the steady rise and fall of his chest, to memorize the laugh lines around his eyes. The shape of his lips. To imagine his response to her apology. But then she reached for her bedside table and retrieved the lone Quick Sleep Dust package that remained after her trip to The Conservatory. The one she stashed there knowing he would come for her. Knowing he couldn't help but chase her down.

She sprinkled only a spec or two of the golden dust in his eyes. "Don't be upset when you wake up, I just can't have you following me after my mother. What she did to Theo was almost kind compared to what she would do to you, I know it. Which is why you can't come with me."

Then, remembering how quickly they had woken up after getting hit by the dust before, she decided to be a little more generous this time. "Get some rest, lover," and he seemed to settle even deeper into sleep.

Dressing after a quick shower, she laced up her boots after slipping several daggers onto her person. Her leather potion sash went on, fitting her perfectly. Next she fastened cuffs to each wrist, checking her picks remained secure. They were. Hair braided tight to the back of her head, she put on a black cloak over her jumpsuit and pulled the hood up.

Her eye went to the bedside table. Her own wand was lost, she hadn't the faintest idea where it had gotten to. With one hand, she picked up the diamond, a comforting chill in her palm, and stuffed it into her undetectable pocket, placed her favorite dagger at her hip, and gingerly picked up Neville's Cherry wand with her other.

"Will you behave if I promise to return you?" she asked the long, reddish colored piece of wood. Cherry wood she guessed.

A warmth spread through her hand and down her arm, one that felt intimately like Neville. Like his strength, his determination. It felt earthy and somehow gutsy. "Guess that's a yes," she frowned, realizing she felt like a damn _Gryffindor_. Then she Apparated.

oOo

Draco looked an awful sight, face drawn and paler than ever, with hair so disheveled Pansy wondered how it could possibly still be attached to his head. She patted his shoulder while keeping a hefty distance between them, trying not to gag on the smell of sweat. His detox seemed to be going along just fine.

"Sorry Drakey, I'm not here to see you, as _great_ as you look," she waved him off and made to meet with Narcissa, walking through the foyer and heading for the stairs up.

"Aren't you here for the funeral?" he asked, leaning against the stair post, his voice rough.

"What funeral?" His words stopped her in her very tracks. He did seem to be overdressed for his current physical state.

"Theo's of course, I thought that was why you were here. Mother has been attempting to-" he paused and took a deep breath, trying to control his shakes. "- contact you."

"That was fast," she gripped the railing from about half way up the stairs and looked down to Draco, mind wild with emotion and thoughts she couldn't decipher. "I can't go."

"You must be kidding?" Draco didn't sound upset, just sad.

"No," she shook her head, his sadness invading her. "I just sort of drugged Longbottom, stole his wand, and I'm going after my mother."

No reaction. "You _must_ be kidding?"

"It gets worse," she gripped the railing even tighter and looked at her feet. "I'm in love with him and he knows it too."

He'd always been good at that face, the one that said he'd rather be anywhere else. "That's… worse how?"

"Because now I'm on a deadline and I haven't got a plan!"

"I can't think without a drink, so you need to use small words and full sentences."

"You touch a drink and I will cut off your hands at the wrist," she yelled at him.

"Then start explaining the situation to me and start from the beginning!"

"Beginning beginning or…?"

"Yes, the beginning!"

"Well, approximately 31 years ago, my parents copulated and conceived a child, _me_ -"

"You said you were on a deadline, Pansy. Is there really time for sarcasm?"

"I have to find Pearl, stop her, obviously get Posy back, and I have to do it before Neville wakes up from his little nap I sent him in and comes after me because I couldn't stand it if my mother hurts him like she hurt Theo. See? I _do_ have a heart! I'll visit Theo's grave… after." The look Draco gave her crushed her heart a bit. "C'mon don't look at me like that, I've had a rough week."

"You've no plan and you've basically guaranteed Longbottom is going to come after you," he argued.

"Not for at least 6 hours, maybe 8. And I'm working up a plan now, I just need a bit of help from your mother."

"Pansy."

She turned and looked up the stairs, where Narcissa stood wearing black robes with matching finery and looking down at her. The woman who no matter how many mistakes Draco made always, always loved and supported her son. "Please," she said in a soft voice. "You have time enough to say goodbye."

"You'll only regret it if you don't go," Draco added. "You won't forgive yourself if you miss Theo's funeral."

"Daphne Greengrass is dead," she told them, watching as Narcissa covered her mouth in a gasp. "Her and my mother were behind these murders the last couple of months."

"So, she set you up right from the beginning," Draco lost the fight with his legs and used the railing to lower himself down to the seat on the first stair. "But why? For Pearl?"

With each second passing by, Pansy's anxiety notched up and up, but she realized Draco wouldn't know what happened on the _Adelaide_ and he deserved the truth. She owed him that at least. She stepped down to his stair and sat next to him, taking his hands in her own.

All the years of their friendship coalesced into a heavy weight that sat on her heart.

"Daphne believed it was my idea that Tory didn't remain at St. Mungo's, that I convinced her to spend the remainder of her days in Italy with me, instead of staying at the hospital on the slight chance she might recover."

She smoothed his hair down and gave him the chance to process the words, hoping she could be a comfort to him right now instead of her usual abrasiveness. Hoping she wasn't driving him back to the drink, as she so often drove Theo back to Glim. "I hope you know, I begged Tory to stay at St. Mungo's."

"I remember," he said slowly. "The Healer's told us there wasn't anything to be done. She didn't want to stay, she wanted to travel while she still could. It wasn't anyone's fault Tory died."

The only other time she felt this helpless, this raw, numb feeling, she had been holding her father's hand as he lie dying in his bed. Draco seemed just as ill, and twice as sad. "I guess Daphne believed the fault was mine, but we all know Tory and Daph never got along well after school. I was always closer to her than Daphne was, and I'm sure there was a lot of resentment there. Don't blame yourself for _my_ issues, Draco."

"All our friends are gone or dead, Pans," he said, voice hollow.

"Yes, except me."

"And last you were here, you told me you wouldn't stop until Pearl was in the ground, even if you went with her. You're so eager to rush to your death you won't even stop to say goodbye to Theo."

It seemed a lifetime ago when she wore that red dress to see him, feeling cocky and in charge, ready to take on anyone and everyone to get to Posy. Everything had changed since then. Everything.

"I assume you don't know," he continued. "But the Ministry voted on Granger's bill last night."

She sucked in a breath. "For or against?"

"Against, so if there was ever a time for you to go and rescue Posy…"

"Now's the time," she completed for him.

She rose up and then knelt before him, retaking both of his hands in hers. "I'm not exactly known for keeping my promises, Draco. But you better believe me when I say I will do whatever I can to make sure that both myself and Posy survive this. I just have to end it, before anyone else gets hurt."

"The funeral?"

Her jaw clenched. "Pearl is the one who murdered him, Theo wouldn't mind me missing his funeral if I was out avenging his death."

Narcissa placed a hand on her shoulder, snapping Pansy out of her anger. "How can we help, dear?"

 _Focus, Parkinson._ Her mind, her thought. But it was Neville's voice.

"Something Daphne said to me last night has me thinking."

She asked where Pearl was, and Daphne had said ' _Perhaps at home, with your sweet sister'_. At the time, recently dosed up, she thought Daph meant Pansy's childhood home, a place she hadn't been welcomed to since her Papa died and was, as far as she knew, still warded against her by blood.

But she spent a lot of time sitting in front of that mirror, thinking about the night she had and the new information she learned. She wondered what it was that made Daphne and Pearl's Glim so different from other Glim. What was it that allowed for total compulsion, as opposed to the suggestive force of other Glim?

And the question that had been in the back of her mind since she first came back to the country. Why did Pearl lock up Posy? Maybe the two were connected.

"Where did Daphne live with her last husband?"

"Down in Welsle, but she sold it after Preston passed."

"I thought Preston was the first husband?"

"That was Nathan," Draco said.

"No, Nathan was the second. William was the first," Narcissa corrected them both. "After Preston passed, she moved into the space above her warehouse."

"Warehouse." Pansy pictured the building in her mind, trying to recall the layout of the halls and doorways when she visited Daphne before. The day she took the job to steal The Fern. "I'll start there then, and I need you to do one more thing for me, Draco."

She told him.

"If I get caught…"

"We'll do it," Narcissa said.

"Thank you," Pansy knew she asked for the impossible.

A nod and a sad smile, Narcissa patted her shoulder in a show of support and then said, "I choose Dahlia's. For Theo, all yellow."

Damn, she'd been doing fine up until that moment. But Narcissa's words sent her straight back to Spain, but before Jac and after she left the fear of 7th year behind, when for a brief few weeks everything had been decent. Easy going, slow living. Playing her cello and drinking coffee with Theo. Walking the city streets at night and lounging on the beach during the day.

And always, Theo stopping to buy her flowers. Always yellow.

Thankfully, before she could get all choked up about Theo and about how wonderful the Malfoy's had always been to her, Draco asked a question.

"What do you want me to tell Longbottom when he inevitably shows up looking for you?"

That she loved him, she didn't want him hurt, she was sorry for what she said...

"Tell him… he still owes me 3000 Galleons and he better not forget it." She planned to collect.

oOo

When Neville found himself pounding on the front door of Bobbi and Connor's house just outside of the city, he thought it a great idea at the time. Get Nott's laptop, find Buchanan, which is what he should have done in the first place, then get to Pearl before Parkinson did and stop her from murdering a woman in cold blood. Easy. Finish the case that had been ongoing for months now.

Pearl Parkinson deserved a long life… locked behind bars and suffering for the crimes she committed.

But aside from Bobbi's happy ' _You came for dinner!'_ he quickly changed his mind once Connor charged him and punched him hard in the gut. His friend didn't stop there. Soon he found himself in a headlock, while Connor wailed on him. The only reason Neville didn't defend himself was because he didn't want to hurt Connor, which in a fight would be inevitable.

More, all his friends seemed to be in the room. Even Ginny and Luna who he hadn't seen in _ages._ As well as a younger woman he'd never met before. He didn't have time to introduce himself. "Connor, c'mon you know I'll win this fight."

Ginny had his right foot, Ron had his left, both trying to pull him away from Connor. Harry and Bobbi were pulling on Connor's arms, trying to get Neville out of his hold. But out of all his friends, Connor was the most likely to take him down in a fight. If Neville didn't immediately take him out.

He tempered his strength, using just enough force to keep Connor from completely choking him out.

"You pushed my wife into a desk," Connor growled. "She's trying to keep you from ruining your damn life and you pushed her around!"

"Connor let him go!" Bobbi cried. "Right now!"

Hermione ran around the room in circles, "Ron! Where's my wand! Where is my wand!?"

"I did miss you guys while I was abroad," Luna said, shooting Neville a smile from her place at the dining table.

"Connor," Neville grunted, the lot of them knocking over a chair. "It was an accident - I swear I didn't purposely try to hurt her."

"Connor, love," Bobbi panted, pulling on Connor's shirt with all her might. "I told you I was fine!"

Neville thought his eyes were about to pop out of his head. "Seriously Connor, don't make me defend myself!"

"Both of you let go now!" Harry ordered, but no one listened.

"Someone needs to knock some sense into you! Might as well be me."

"I wish you guys would stop looking at it as me choosing her over you," Neville slowly began to push Connor's hands away, a tight grip on both his wrists. "I'm just trying to do my _job."_

"They did sleep together," Ginny told Luna.

"Oh finally!" Luna said, seeming very pleased.

"How did you even know?!" Neville shouted. "I haven't seen you in weeks!"

"Finally?" Bobbi wrapped her arms around Connor's neck. "What do you mean 'finally'?"

"They've been circling each other for _years now_!" Luna said enthusiastically, while Ron agreed.

"It's true," Hermione added, frantically digging through her purse. "The clues are there if you know where to look, like that sweater he loves so much. Aha!"

Her wand came out of her purse just as a loud _fizzing_ sound zapped the air, and magic went out the next second. "Give me a break."

"Oh _the_ sweater," Ginny laughed. "It's the same color as her hair isn't it, dark brown?"

"What bloody sweater?" Neville groaned, ignoring the fact he knew exactly what sweater they were talking about. A brown so dark it was almost black.

"He kept her picture up in his office this whole time," Ron pointed out.

"Yeah pinned to my dart board!"

"Did everyone know besides me?" Bobbi asked.

"I wish someone had told me," Neville deadpanned, keeping his hold on Connor's wrists without exerting too much force. "Look, Bobs, you know I would never purposely try to hurt you. Don't you? You know that right?"

"I know!" she said right as Connor said, "Just keep your hands off her next time!"

"Why the hell are you so angry with me lately?"

Connor struggled another couple of seconds before he finally realized he would _never_ win in a match of pure strength versus Neville and he relaxed. The resulting lack of tension sent Connor, Harry, and Bobbi flying backwards as Neville, Ginny, and Ron rolled the opposite way.

Neville landed on his back, looking directly up the chair at the unknown woman, but if he were a betting man he would say she was closely related to Bobbi. "Hi," she waved down at him. "I'm Spencer, Bob's little sister."

"Erh… hello," Neville held his hand out for a shake. "Spencer? I thought… doesn't Bobbi have a brother named Spencer? The one who worked on The Conservatory?"

She laughed and took his hand, "No, that's me. You left the project before we had a chance to properly meet."

"Oh," and all the fight left him at the thought of The Conservatory and Neville's bad luck that only happened when he went inside the building. He relaxed into the floor and just laid there, not sure if he should feel annoyed or hurt. He decided to go with annoyed.

Why not? After all he woke up alone, with golden dust in his eyes, realizing Pansy had taken off on him. _Again._ More, he was done trusting her.

Bobbi jumped up to her feet and stood by her sister, which managed to signal to everyone the brawl was over. Connor helped Neville to his feet, "You keep your hands off my wife."

"Next time you start something, you better be prepared for me to fight back."

And just like that, things were back to normal between them.

"This is why I'm upset with you, okay?" Bobbi gestured to her sister, who placed a hand on her own chest as if to say 'Who me?'.

"Yes," Bobbi continued. "I have been trying to set you two up for months, ever since The Conservatory project started. And one thing after another seemed to get in the way, important things," she added gently. "Neville's parents passed away, and his partner left us, and now… _Parkinson."_

"And Parkinson is…"

Everyone spoke at once. _Thief._ Con artist. _Bad news._ And Ron's impassioned, "Bloody brilliant!" came right before Bobbi's, "Major headache".

"She's alone," Neville told them. "She's all alone."

"How can we help?" Hermione asked.

There wasn't much they _could_ do, but before Neville could speak there was a soft knock from the front door. "Are you expecting anyone else," he asked Connor and Bobbi.

"No," Bobbi left the room and Neville found himself being pulled into an empty chair by both Ginny and Luna.

"Try to eat a little something, Nev. You look famished," Ginny said, pushing a plate of food towards him.

"I couldn't eat even if I wanted to." No way. He felt like the living version of Theodore Nott, sick in love and desperate for something that seemed just out of reach. He explained to his friends his worry, that if this had been any other job he would feel confident in Pansy's success. But this wasn't her usual in any way. His case was personal for her. From day one. She knew three of the victims, four if you counted Nott.

Her own mother was the mastermind behind the murders and the creation of horrible drug that forces people to do things against their will. Her best friend's sister used that drug on Pansy, and put her through her own personal hell.

"She needs my help," he finished.

"I'm happy to hear that, Mr. Longbottom."

Turning in his chair, Neville watched Bobbi lead two men into the dining room. Draco Malfoy, and a stout grey headed man who looked afraid of his own shadow. The man's tiny eyes darted back and forth nervously between all the people in the room before landing directly on Neville.

Fear drove the man to take several steps backward where he ran right into Malfoy. "No, no, no this is a terrible idea. You can't guarantee my safety from him."

"Why do you need to be kept safe from me?" Neville asked, standing up. He may have cracked his knuckles just to see how scared the unknown man really felt.

Bobbi stepped between them. "Nev, this man has promised he can lead you directly to Pearl Parkinson as long as you don't attempt to physically harm him."

"Buchanan," Neville's teeth clenched. He wondered how far this man went in the service for Daphne Greengrass.

"I swear," the man held his hands up in surrender, sweat already forming on his brow. "Everything I did, Ms. Daphne made me do it."

A bold faced lie.

"I have agreed to represent Mr. Buchanan on the condition he fully cooperates with you," Malfoy informed the room. He pushed Buchanan rather roughly back in Neville's direction. "Starting with the exact location Mr. Longbottom can find Mrs. Parkinson."

"Why would you do that?" Neville wasn't worried about Buchanan. Even a small nudge would have this whimpering coward spilling all his secrets. But Malfoy, paler than normal and a hosting a sickly sheen, also had the look like he was on a mission. An important one.

"You're probably fit to be very angry with her right now, and with good reason. She told me what she did to get away from you. But she's the last friend I have, excepting Granger over there and that's mostly pity. Pansy needs help, the kind of help I cannot give her. But this I can do. She doesn't know I've come here."

Sounded genuine enough to Neville. He turned to Buchanan, who immediately shrunk back. "The address. Now."

oOo

She slipped on her fingerless gloves as she eyed up the backside of Daphne's warehouse. Two hours were wasted waiting for the sun to go down and the last of the staff to leave. But under the cover of full darkness and a drizzle of cold rain she used her picks to break the warded door and pick the lock, slipping through a side door and finding herself in the dark warehouse.

She could smell potion ingredients and the cleaning solution used on cauldrons, wooden corks and the stillness of clean vials as she made herself stay as quiet as possible beside the door, hiding in the dark. She counted to thirty, giving herself time to allow her eyesight to adjust.

Obviously, she'd entered the main room of the warehouse, the room where all the production happened. She knew that across from her were the stairs leading up to Daphne's private office and to her left was the front office where you entered through the front door. So she went right.

Peeking through doors and looking for a way up, keeping as silent as possible. In one room, she spied two men smoking and playing a game of cards, and paying absolutely no attention to her at all. She heard one say, "She went and killed all her husbands, 'course she wound up murdered."

Pansy wasn't all that cut up about Daphne's passing either. Looking around, she plucked a few empty glass vials off the nearby shelf and put them on the ground in front of the door. If either of the men left the room, the door would bump the vials and hopefully give her warning these men were on the move.

Her boots carried her all the way to the opposite wall, finding nothing, so she took the steps up to Daphne's office. Someone had clearly gone through the desk and the cabinets in the corner. The small zen garden Pansy had seen last time had been knocked on its side, sand going everywhere across the desk.

But no other doors. She avoided the window that looked out into the warehouse and walked to the other side of the room, looking for dips in the floor or hidden doorways. There was a large, heavy blue curtain over the window on the opposite wall she gave a wide berth, not wanting anyone to know she was in the room. But standing in the corner, she realized there wasn't a window behind that curtain at all.

Her picks buzzed by her wrists, sensing a _hearty_ ward nearby. She pushed the curtain aside and found a set of french doors, with symmetrical oval shaped windows on each side. A white curtain on the other side of the doors kept her from seeing further inside. Picks releasing into her hands, the magical ward came to life before her eyes.

"Fuck," she whispered under her breath.

It was the biggest, most complex ward she'd ever seen before. The intricate design one she recognized as her mother's work. It would take her near fifteen minutes to break through this baby, but the sheer sight of it gave Pansy hope. What else besides Posy could be behind this door? What else would warrant such a tough and tricky ward such as this?

She began right away. That ever present awareness of time at the back of her mind. She feared too much time had been wasted waiting for the damn sun to set, but she'd arrived at the tail end of the work day, despite the fact that the boss had bit it. She couldn't get a good look around when most of the staff was still present.

How much longer did she have before Neville woke up and realized she'd ditched him again? She just had to beat him to it. Take care of her mother, steal away Posy, and get the hell out of dodge. She wouldn't be able to _be_ with him… not after this. But it was better than her mother killing Neville to get back at Pansy.

 _Focus, Parkinson._

All her concentration was on untangling the threads that held the ward together, the lines stretching from all the way from the ground to the top of the tall door. The hues ranged from a light blue to a gentle cream, her mother's colors. Delicate colors.

Sweat formed on the back of her neck, but her hand and breath remained steady and the threads came undone one by one, her pace tortuously slow.

Until the last string fell apart at the exact same time she heard glass break. _Oh boy._ She switched to undoing the lock as quickly as possible. _One. Two. Three_. A slight click sounded and she stepped through the door, pulling the curtain closed behind her just as she heard the office door open.

She quietly shut the french doors and then held the knobs in place, unable to re-lock the door without drawing attention to herself. A minute later, her caution proved worth it when the door knobs turned from the other side. She held them still, as if the doors were still locked, and waited. They tried it once more after another minute had passed, but soon after Pansy caught the sound of the office door closing shut.

She turned the lock. And magic went out with a gentle breeze that tickled the back of her neck.

Daphne's home looked nothing like the warehouse did. All rich hardwoods and white drapes, expensive crystal sat in a china cabinet, sleek, pristine, furniture that looked unused. Not a thing looked out of place.

She made her way down the lone hallway and carefully opened the first three doors she came to, only to find empty bedrooms, two to three small cots in each. In the third room, she knelt beside the first cot and pulled a small raggedy doll from the top pillow.

The cots were all too small for a full grown adult.

Clutching the doll tightly, she checked the next of two remaining rooms, but found what looked like Daphne's personal bedroom. A room every bit as high class and pristine looking as the living room had been. But Pansy only wondered how the hell the witch had slept at night, how did she live with herself after the things she had done?

She checked the frame for any traps, but Daphne wasn't savvy enough to use them, and hadn't in the past. She spent some time checking the drawers of her dresser set, looking under the bed, checking beneath the mattress, running fingers along the back of the ornate silver and black headboard. In her experience, hidden things were always near the bed, allowing the secret keeper to sleep better.

She approached the vanity on silent feet, and ran her finger down the side of a silver picture frame. The photo inside the shiny metal showed two girls smiling and arms wrapped around each other's necks. Daphne and Astoria, light haired and dark haired. In their finery, young, and happy.

And a lie.

It said something that Daphne kept a picture of her sister from decades ago rather than a more recent photo.

The sisters had been happy with one another when they were younger, but sometime during school things had changed between them. Tory said it started with a bet, an innocent gamble on who would win some Quidditch match one year. Then another on which sister would do better on their essays. Small things like trying to win the affection of the same boy or look better in a dress. Innocent things.

Until those things became large things, like stealing friendships and pitting their parents against one another, stealing and cheating to get what they wanted no matter who it hurt. Until neither of them trusted each other.

Pansy found herself breaking the frame to stash the picture for later, unsure of why she would do such a thing. Maybe she needed the reminder that nothing was promised. That whatever else happened, her sisterhood with Posy was far more important.

Or maybe because anyone who had the kind of wealth Daphne did had something to hide. And on the back of the frame she found a white key card hidden away, one for a popular storage facility nearby.

Then she heard laughter. A whole chorus of it. It died down quickly but Pansy only had one more room to check.

She found far more than she expected.

A dozen children, sitting in what she imagined was a playroom. Books and games and crayons for coloring. They were clean, and dressed simply in white cotton pants and a shirt to match. A few children sat in a circle, playing a game with marbles. Another few lay around listening as a much older child sat in a chair reading to them, telling a story with the pure voice of a true storyteller. One by one they all turned look at Pansy, their expressions one of uncertainty and trepidation.

None of them older than 4 or 5, excepting the one the middle. A girl. With golden hair. She turned last and Pansy let out a laugh, dropping her hood. "Posy."

Her little sister launched from the chair she sat, her book forgotten, and ran right into Pansy. "Wild horses! Wild horses!"

"Couldn't drag me away," Pansy responded, crushing her sister in a hug. Their code so they knew they were who they truly appeared to be, based off the song their father had sang to them when they were both little.

"I knew you would come!"

Pansy indulged in exactly ten seconds of the hug, thinking of how Posy was the best of them all. Smart like their father, the first to laugh at a joke, but curious in a gentle way without being cruel like Pearl or callous like herself. "We must leave, I do not know how long before someone else returns."

Then she reached out and took Posy's cheek. Spotted the yellow and green under her cheek. "Mother's work?"

"We can't," Posy stepped back and up onto the chair she previously occupied, putting her on eye level with Pansy. She ignored the question entirely, which was answer enough. "What about the rest of us?"

She meant the children, all twelve of them. Pansy eyed the silver cuffs on their wrists. They weren't connected, allowing the kids free movement. But experience whispered that these cuffs were magical, likely keeping them all bound to the apartment. "Where is Mother?"

"She comes and goes every 2 or 3 days, it's now been 4 since I last saw her. We usually see Tory's sister, Daphne." She said the name like a swear word. "She's been helping Mother. But she hasn't come by today."

Pansy looked around at the children that all looked up at her in return. With hope. "Why? What are they doing with you?"

Posy held out her arm, showing the inside of her bruised elbow. "She takes blood from us."

Her mother managed to surprise her yet again. "Blood? Whatever for?"

"I dunno," Posy gulped. "I mean, I don't know. They use it for something, otherwise why come back and take more? Daphne should have been here by now."

"Daphne is dead, and we _have_ to go, Posy."

A collective sigh of relief spread through the room.

"Not without the children, Pansy. Mother's hurt them more than me, wolves can take a lot but... they need your help too. I _promised_ them they would be safe."

"You mean to tell me," Pansy looked around at all the little faces, clean but scared. "That all of you are wolves?"

Posy's chin turned stubborn. "We are _all_ wolves and we are _all_ leaving together or not all!"

It seemed Pansy's job just turned twelve times harder. "Are there any others?"

A shake of her head, Posy looked around. "We are all here."

Pansy instructed them to find a buddy and be as quiet as possible. Neville's wand came to her hand easily again, filling her with warmth even as the diamond cooled and soothed. Magic was out, but that didn't matter. She had the _Dolce Mela_. "Let me try on you first, Po."

Her wand hand moved as she silently cast the spell. A loud bang came from Posy's cuffs as a rage of power filled Pansy, and one by one the cuffs around the room fell to the floor in pieces.

A round of cheers came from the kids, all of them swarming Pansy in their excitement.

"Wow!" Posy jumped up and down. "We're getting _out of here!"_

She took Posy to the door, "If we're going to do that, I'll have to disable the two guards downstairs. Are there anymore that you know of?"

"No," Posy put a finger on her chin as she thought, her body thrumming with energy. "Sometimes Mother takes me into the warehouse but that was in the morning when everyone was working."

Pansy knelt and withdrew a small knife from her boot. "Take this."

Posy's small fingers hesitantly took the knife, then turned determined as they always did no matter how scared she got. "I remember my lessons."

"Don't hesitate, Po. If your life is in danger, protect yourself."

Her sister struck out, turning the small blade so it lay horizontal. "Right between the rib bones, into the lung, so it fills with blood, and they die faster."

"Good girl."

Posy's smile seemed crueler than Pansy remembered, the years since they last saw each other wearing her face. She was only nine years old. But a wolf, and with Pearl for a mother. Pansy would never underestimate the hardships her little sister endured.

"She'll pay for this." Pansy grabbed Posy's chin again, turning her bruised cheek towards the light. "I'll make sure of it."

"Just because she hit me once?" Posy shook her head, and looked over to the group of children. "Look at them, sister. They need you far more than I ever did."

She took another look, a longer look. Spotted the bruised eyes and split lips on baby faces and chubby cheeks. But her spell had them filling with hope, as well as Posy's high energy. They would follow her, Pansy realized. She promised to take care of them and they believed in her.

Pansy turned back to Posy and grabbed her hand. "You don't have to convince me. I'll get them to safety. It's _your_ job to stay alive, because you might not need me but I sure as hell need you. You hear me?"

"I hear you."

"Follow me, and if you run into a man name Neville Longbottom, you can trust him."

Posy looked bewildered for a second before she said, "Okay, one more thing Pans… I think Mother did something to Theo…"

Standing, feeling the first trace of uncertainty, Pansy pulled up her hood before smoothing down the left side of Posy's hair. She watched as her lip gave a small tremble, Posy and Theo having always been the best of friends even when Pansy couldn't stand the sight of her ex. "We'll talk about Theo later."

Posy's expressive face turned hard, her big eyes turning glassy as she looked down, suddenly looking her proper age instead of the mature personality she'd been projecting. "If he were fine, you would've told me right away."

It took everything she had not to start sobbing right there, standing in Daphne's apartment turned prison, in front of her baby sister who loved Theodore Nott more than anyone else in the world. "If he were fine, I would've told you right away," she agreed, voice even. "And soon, I'll tell you all about him. But for now, I need to take care of the guards downstairs and get these kids out of here before Mother shows up, agreed?"

A solemn nod.

Pansy led the group out of the apartment to the door she'd arrived through, gesturing for them to be quiet as she slipped into Daphne's office. To their credit, they didn't make a sound though she could sense their anxiety. Of course they were afraid. They were children.

Sliding up next to the window that overlooked the warehouse, she peeked out and spotted one of the guards sweeping up the glass bottle she planted, a pair of headphones in his ears. She signaled to Posy to stay put and drew in breath, slipping through the office door and jumping the rail of the stairway.

She landed on the bottom floor directly behind the man with his broom, two fingers out to tap on his shoulder. He spun around in surprise, looked her up and down, and held the broom out with shaking hands, ready to defend himself.

Poor man.

She took the broom handle from him and bashed the side of his head with a steady swing, using the same momentum to swing down and take out his knees. He rolled onto his back, unconscious.

The music player he used, it looked like his phone, tumbled across the floor, hard plastic and metal against concrete, making more noise than an angry dragon. More, the headphone cord disconnected half way through it's fall, blasting out heavy music that filled the entire warehouse.

 _So much for stealth._ Heavy metal music blared. She rushed after the device but halted to a stop just short when the door across from her slammed open, spitting out the other guard. "Hey!" he shouted over the noise.

This one, he seemed different. _A wolf._ He wouldn't go down as easily as the first.

"Hi!" Pansy dropped her hood, then she gave him a big, butterfly smile and made her voice bubbly to the _max._

It was just enough to give him pause, reconsidering her with confused eyes. She used the hesitation to dart forward and whack him in the knees with the broom handle, happy to find it a faster weapon than she thought it would be.

He took the hit but didn't go down and he didn't turn to fight back, instead he took off towards the front door shouting, "She's here! She's here!"

 _They were waiting for her._

"Damn wolf!"

Pansy launched the broom handle directly at his feet, running to keep up with him. He tripped but managed to stay on his feet, making it to the front door where he stumbled into the front office.

Where a group of ten or more guards were standing at ready. They didn't expect anyone to come from behind though, based on their surprise when the first guard burst through the door.

Thinking quick, Pansy reached into her cloak for her sash and pulled out the bottom potion, the liquid inside a shimmering blue. She'd brought three. "Sorry boys," she said as she shook the contents. "No time to play today."

"Parkinson! _No!"_ She tossed the potion towards the office before she realized who yelled.

Neville charged past her faster than she'd ever seen him move, yanking the potion from mid air, but it was too late. Air sucked in towards the Mana Bomb, ozone filling her nose as her ears popped.

"NO NEVILLE!" She charged forward, trying to knock the potion out of his hands before it warped him into a ball of debris. Mana Bombs were _deadly_.

His fist came out and punched her once in the chest, the force lifting her off her feet as she soared backwards. Her breastbone broke and she watched in agony as Neville clamped his hands together around the bottle before she collided with the wall.

Clear across the warehouse.

Moaning and dizzy, she blinked several times, trying to focus on Neville. On his hands. _His hands._ She felt the moment the bomb went off, feeling magic surge outwards but he remained whole, his hands withstanding the force. Nothing crumbled inwards. His body didn't contort on itself. The space around him didn't fold into nothing.

He held the explosion within his hands, and when they came away from each other, nothing but blue dust remained. She knew he was strong… but that… should have been impossible. Rolling up to her feet, her entire front side screaming in agony, she jogged back to him as she reached into her pocket. "Get the children! Neville! The children!"

The guards didn't care that Neville just saved all their lives, they charged out of the room ready for battle, all eyes on _her._

"Don't kill _anyone_!"

She grabbed onto his jacket when she reached him, shoving the _Dolce Mela_ and his wand into his hands. "Nev!" she pushed him towards the stairs up to Daphne's office, secretly pleased he still worried for her soul. " _You get my sister out of here right this second!"_

There would be plenty of time later to yell and curse his name for saving the guards when her sister was in danger, but there was also no one else she would trust her sister's well being with. Only him. Only Neville.

She never stopped moving, swinging past him and entering the fray with the guards, her dagger falling into her hand with familiar comfort.

Neville wanted to join her, his blood rushing with the effects of the Mana Bomb had flooded him. As if magic had invaded his blood and given him an even bigger boost to his strength. And there was nothing more he loved than fighting with Pansy Parkinson, with or against didn't matter.

Ron, Connor, Bobbi and Harry rushed past him then, distracting him from his battle euphoria and all of his friends jumped into the fight with Pansy. Her look of shock at their appearance gave him a small laugh. Of course his friends would help her, after all, she belonged to him now.

She didn't let it trip her up in anyway, her position changed and she continued to fight with all her being. He had no time to admire her form, instead turning on his toe and taking the stairs two at a time. Blood still drumming, he accidentally ripped the door off its hinges when he reached the top.

He entered the room, wand out and ready, and immediately spotted the children Pansy spoke of. At least a dozen of them all wearing white bottoms and tops. He didn't have time to ask what they were all doing there, he barely noticed the movement behind him before he felt a knife plunge into his back. It hit bone and stuck.

"What the -" he bit of the inappropriate word he wanted to scream.

"You leave us alone!" a tiny voice yelled at him.

"Posy?" he couldn't reach the knife in his back, but he recognized the girl that had put it there. "My name is Neville, I'm-" he almost told her he was an Auror. "I'm here to help."

She backed up putting herself between him and the children, all courage gone now that she lost her weapon. But then her tiny fists curled and her eyes flashed between their deep indigo color and an angry amber. "Prove it, prove who you are!"

"Uh -" he showed her the diamond. "You know what this is?"

She eyed it carefully. "That's my sister's."

"She gave it to me, I swear I won't hurt you or your friends. I'm here to help."

One of the younger kids stepped up to Posy, who reached for his hands automatically. "He said his name is Neville, your sister said we could trust him, remember Po? Remember?"

"Yeah!" another said before the lot of them all murmured in agreement.

All except Posy, whose eye found his wand. "Wait, my sister had that wand!"

Why wasn't he surprised to find Posy was just as distrusting as her sister? "I know, it's _my_ wand."

"You let my sister use your wand?" she shot the question off so quickly, proving how smart she was.

Reigning in his impatience, he wondered how to answer that question without lying. He hadn't the faintest idea how to talk to little girls, and Posy wasn't a normal little girl by any means which made it all that much harder. He decided on the honest truth. If she were anything like Pansy, then she could handle it. "I don't let your sister do anything. I can barely keep up with her most of the time. Even at her worst, she runs circles around me. But I would never hurt those she loves, because that would hurt her."

Posy gulped, looking less confident. "I-I'm sorry I stabbed you, Mr. Longbottom. I'll take it out."

"No, it'll just bleed." Hermione was outside, she could heal him up before it caused too much damage. He picked up the nearest child and held his wand at the ready, "Everyone stay close to me. My friends are outside, they are Aurors."

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Longbottom."

He turned around, pulling Posy behind him. But he should have worried for the other children first. Pearl Parkinson stood in a doorway across the room, holding a child by her elbow and a gun in the other hand.

* * *

 _Also, as you might have guessed, this is not the last chapter. I was rapidly approaching 20k words and decided to divide the chapter into two. Still finishing up! Expect the rest sometime in the next week!_


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N:** Yay! It's here! Omg it's a word monster and I'm not sorry in the least bit! Here's your warnings: Violence, blood, torture, death and murder, betrayal, and true love. Thanks to everyone who supports my fics and leaves me reviews! If you like it, drop me a message and let me know!

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty Two**

(Bombshells and Mana Bombs)

"So much as a single step from you young man and this child won't live to regret it," Pearl told him, her voice eerily similar to Pansy's. Only _far_ colder.

Up close, he got a much better look at her than he ever did at Club Dread. She had blue eyes that pierced and delicate bone structure that didn't look anything like Pansy's. Long locks of blonde hair peeked out from underneath her cloak hood. Posy, aside from the deep indigo color of her eyes, was a perfect replica of her mother. There was no mistaking her for someone else.

"No! Let Lysa go, Mother!" Posy shouted from behind him, sounding far braver than he felt.

"Let her go," he said, gently setting down the child he held while trying to shield as many with his body as he could. He added, "And I'll do what you want, whatever you want."

Pearl smiled, looking truly beautiful. She couldn't be more than twenty years older than he was and when she spoke, Neville knew this woman could get men to do what she wanted, just by the honey in her voice.

"You'll do whatever I want regardless. I've done my homework on you, Mr. Longbottom. The Glorious Gryffindor. War Hero with an exalted Auror career. You sound tough on paper. But all men are weak when it comes to women. Falling in love with my daughter will make a idiot of you yet."

"In love?" He didn't know what else to say, he automatically felt at a disadvantage just from knowing how truly evil this woman was, but her sheer confidence made him ill with worry. And more, he believed 100% that she would shoot the girl she held hostage and feel no remorse whatsoever. Somehow he said, "But Posy and I have only just met."

"How cute," Pearl seemed amused. "Did you learn that snark from her? Weak men will allow their emotions to control their actions. You'd do anything for my sweet daughter there, because you were fool enough to love my other. So let's try this again."

And he thought Pansy was manipulative. "What can I do for you, Mrs. Parkinson?"

"First you'll send your wand and Posy over, she is mine after all. My daughter by blood, my wolf by property."

"I'm not _property!"_

"Shh, Posy," Neville whispered to her, getting her attention. When her big eyes turned towards him, knowing it would hurt like a bitch, he gave a gentle shrug to draw attention to the small blade still lodged between his ribs. He continued, "And then?"

"I'll send this one over to you," Pearl yanked the tiny girl by her elbow, causing her to begin sniffling. "Then you'll come with me. I believe I have a lot of use for you, Mr. Longbottom."

Posy caught on after the second shrug, pretending, or not, he didn't know her well enough to distinguish, to cry big howling sobs that made her sound more like her age than she acted. She stepped behind him as if hiding and pulled the blade out. _Son of a bitch it hurt!_

"Posy," he said, turning slowly to the side with his hands in the air. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

He took the tiny knife into the hand he placed on her back, hiding it from view. He pushed his wand into her hand. She continued to cry and make hysterics, enough that a few red sparks blasted from the end of his wand. "You're cruel and mean and you hurt my friends for your own _personal gain!_ "

"Be silent, Posephine. Come here now," implied was she would continue to hurt her friends if Posy disobeyed.

Sniffling, Posy did as she was told. Walking to her mother with slow steps and seemingly chided. "Very good, now you," Pearl pushed the other girl, Lysa, towards Neville. "Walk to the nice man over there."

Then she grabbed Posy by the back of the neck, turning the gun on her own daughter. "Very good. Now, follow us Mr. Longbottom."

oOo

 _Don't kill anyone._ That's what Neville told her. Because he cared for her soul and he believed she was better than a cold blooded murderer. His faith in her evident with the people around her, his friends, all fighting to help her.

She wanted to believe it too, but she knew better.

Magic came back as her foe swung his fist, her head snapping back from the impact. The guards were all paid for their service, hired guns that took off once they realized they were losing. But with the return of magic, the Aurors around her pulled out their wands and the fight ended in a snap of spells.

Pansy wiped the blood off her lip and took a swing at the one who had gotten her as hard as she possibly could, feeling pissed off and desperate to get to her sister. He fell to the floor and she found herself straddling him. She punched him again. "Where-" Punch. "-is-" Punch. "My _mother!"_

Hands around her waist, lifting her off. She assumed it was Neville, only he would have the audacity to touch her when she was in a rage like this. She turned on him, ready to fight him _too_ , and found herself face to face with Harry Potter. "You're fine!" he shouted as he shook her, trying to snap her out of it. "You're fine, Pansy."

Before she could yell back, she caught the sight of children streaming down the stairs. They swarmed her and Harry. "Where's Posy? Where is she?"

Crying and screaming, the kids all surrounded her, talking over each other, pulling on her limbs to get her attention. "Quiet, quiet now! What happened, where is Neville?"

"She took him and Posy away!" one girl sobbed.

"It's all right," she cooed, though it most certainly wasn't. Neville's Auror friends surrounded her, making her feel claustrophobic and outnumbered. But their shiny badges would make the children feel safe.

"How the hell did she overpower Nev?" Ron asked, already scooping down to gather the children into his arms.

But she only wanted to know where they hell they went. "Get them out of here," she commanded. Harry attempted to stop her, but she slipped through his fingers and dashed up the stairs, through the office, and into the apartment beyond. She found what she missed before.

A fireplace.

"What the hell is with all the curtains, Daph?!"

She angrily tore down yet another set of heavy, dark brocade curtains from the wall that half hid a recently used fireplace. She could still feel the heat from the fire. Her worst nightmare was coming true. She should have taken Posy and ran, but even thinking that made her shake her head no. She wouldn't have been able to leave the kids, and Neville still would show up, ready to be the damn hero. And now Pearl had both him and Posy.

"Where did they go?" Harry asked stomping up behind her. " _Pansy._ Where is Neville? And why are your eyes glittering… are you high?"

"No I'm not fucking high, you dense idiot." She reached into her pocket and pulled out the keycard she found earlier. She turned to meet pretty green eyes and wished it were darkest brown staring back at her. "Where is this place?"

"Answer my question and I'll answer yours," he countered, reaching for the card.

She jerked it away last second. "Nice try, _Potter._ "

"I am not your enemy," he said not so calmly.

"We've always been enemies," she spoke quickly.

"We came here to help you, to help your sister. We don't have to be enemies anymore, Pansy. Now," he snatched the card out of her hand. "Where do you think they went? Here?"

Not her enemy? What a laugh, they'd been enemies since childhood and working together on one little fight wasn't going to solve that. She crossed her arms and gave him a hard look. "I don't want your help."

"I doubt Nev would say the same. He's our friend and he's been our friend a lot longer than he's been yours. If you want to be with him you have to put up with us."

"No," she snatched the card right back, not sure if she was answering his question or denying him outright. Pansy certainly didn't _put up_ with anyone. A brief moment of insanity took over and she contemplated punching him out, _punching_ the great and famous Harry Potter.

But, reason whispered, he _could_ have thrown her in jail once upon a time, instead he put her on a boat to France. He _could_ have stayed home, as evident by his casual jeans and shirt, instead he came out with Neville and his friends to help rescue her sister. To fight side by side with _her._

She had needed help on the _Adelaide._ If Neville hadn't been there, she wouldn't have made it off that boat and been in the room with Annie and The Fern, able to fight off the compulsion. She couldn't afford to underestimate her mother again. Maybe teaming up with Potter wasn't the terrible idea she first thought.

"I'm sure my mommy dearest took them somewhere with lots of lackey's to throw between her and Neville, a nice comfortable, fortified stronghold, somewhere _I_ personally can't go. But this," she held the card out. "Daphne hid this from Pearl. So I'm betting it's important enough to draw her out."

"Great," he tapped the top of the keycard. "This is for a storage facility two blocks over."

"Was that so hard?"

"Only because you made it hard," he said, annoyed.

It was too easy.

"I get that a lot."

oOo

Two blocks over and Pansy picked the lock to the front door faster than Harry could take out his wand. "My bet would be my childhood home, my Mother kicked me out the day after my father's funeral and warded it against my blood. I haven't been allowed back in years."

"She sounds lovely, your mum," he waved his wand towards the security cameras, hiding their presence.

"Murdering drug peddler, what's not to love?" Pansy ran past him and checked the first room in the only hallway. She swiped the card and a red beep told her this wasn't their room.

"Why does she want Neville?" he asked, darting past her and standing guard at the end of the hallway while she continued to check doors.

Swipe, swipe, swipe. Nothing. "Who wouldn't?" she told him. "Good looking, famous, and supernaturally strong. A total package."

"You make it sound like she wants to date him," Harry said in horror.

"You're right," more swiping as they continued to the next hallway in haste. "That's why _other_ girls want him."

She worried that Pearl would kill Neville outright, just to hurt her. But another thought, a _worse_ thought came to mind. "My mother probably wants to enslave him and use his strength to consolidate her power among the wolves. And he'll do it, to protect me or even my sister. Damn, self-sacrificing fool. Oh wait, he's friends with you."

"Hey it's _your_ mother," he said.

Well fuck, she was starting to like Neville's friends.

"She did it because of me," she told him, wanting him to hate her. "As I knew she would, which is why I drugged him with Quick Sleep Dust and left him to wake up alone. So this exact situation could be avoided."

She aggressively swiped the keycard on the last storage unit at the end of the hallway and got the green light. The folding door cracked at the bottom and Harry leaned down to pull it the rest of the way up. "Pansy," he started, no doubt about tell her exactly what he thought.

But the fluorescent light flickered on once the door was fully opened.

He bit off a swear word.

"Oh don't hold back on my account," Pansy leaned against the side frame and tried not to swear herself. She failed, "Fucking hell."

Harry took a walkie from some pocket, one she hadn't noticed before. "Bobs, I need you here. There's twice as much Glim in this unit than we found on that boat- er- Hold on."

He took out his phone, which had started ringing. "Hello?..." Harry turned, looking surprised, towards her a moment later and held the small cell phone out. "It's for you."

Well… that's unexpected.

"Pansy's House of Horrors, this is Pansy speaking. How may we scare you today?"

"Pansalina Apronia Parkinson, what do you think you are doing?"

Thirty years old and yet she cringed at being full named, but it was the chill in her mother's voice that did her in. It said Pearl wasn't amused, and things hardly went in her favor when her mother wasn't amused.

That same bit of madness from earlier whispered in her ear, the same one that told her to her punch out Harry like it was a good idea. It asked what else could she lose? How many had died in Pearl's pursuit of power? How much pain had been caused? Theo was dead. Now she had both Neville and Posy.

She gave in.

"What do I think I'm doing? Let's see, I think that much like the majority of my life, I'm getting on your nerves."

Ignoring the sheer bewilder on Potter's face, she walked into the room packed with boxes of Glim and looked up into the corner, right into another security camera. " _I think_ that much like I always do, I'm pissing you off royally, which I have to admit feels damn good, mama."

She reached into her cloak and pulled out her second Mana Bomb. " _I think_ you were using wolfblood to make your uber Glimmer and now the Aurors have all your little baby wolves so you can't make anymore right now."

Holding the blue potion right up to the camera, she said, "Mother, I just might think that if you don't give me back Neville Longbottom and my baby sister, I will blow up the last of your Glimmer and watch as the wolves you've enslaved tear you to pieces."

"If you dare, I will kill this man you love so much just like I killed the last one," she snapped through the phone, her anger vivid.

Pansy looked at Harry and knew they were both surprised at her admission to Theo's murder. But she no longer believed Pearl would kill Neville. He was far too valuable alive, too strong, too connected.

Pansy had to make sure it stayed that way while making Pearl believe he meant nothing to her. "Why do you think I love him? I'm incapable of such emotion, _you_ made sure of that, remember?"

"You're incapable of doing a great deal of things, including going through with your threat. You won't blow up that facility with the Head of Aurors right there to stop you and you won't do it because you know very well just what I will do to Mr. Longbottom. What is it that he calls you?"

Her heart went wild.

"Kitten?"

Pansy kept her face neutral, eyes staring directly into the security camera. "What? A nickname and you think that's love? He's always been my enemy, we love to hate each other. And do you really think I care about Harry Potter? He was an idiot when we were in school and he's an even bigger idiot now. Slow too, he'll never catch me if I decide to give this Mana Bomb a proper shake. And then-" a dramatic gasp! "Boom! Gone! Bye- _bye_ Glimmer! Whatever will you do, Mommy Dearest?"

A deep breath. "But, you give me Posy, and you send her with Longbottom, I will give you your Glim back."

A long pause. "Your lover is rolling his eyes, is that a habit he picked up from you?"

 _Damn_ idiot. "My lover is dead, remember?"

Too late, she realized she was the idiot, a big one, when she heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by a high pitched howl that faded into sobs. If Neville was rolling his eyes at her, she should have assumed Posy could also hear her.

Several thumps followed while Posy wailed in the background, Pansy heard a distinct meeting of flesh on flesh, a hustle of people fighting that Harry and her listened to with rapt attention.

Then she heard a sound she was all too familiar with.

The gadget Daphne used to shoot her up with Glim, the shocking sound it made came through clearly over the phone. A hard slap silenced Posy's cries.

And then Neville started screaming. Not shouting, not crying, _suffering._

"Stop, stop whatever you're doing, stop," Pansy begged, Harry reaching out to take her arm, to hold her up.

A full minute passed where all they could hear was Neville's screams of agony and Pansy tried to understand what her mother could possibly do to cause him such pain. Then Pearl finally spoke.

"So callous of you, Pansy. You made your sister cry."

"What are you doing to him?" she asked.

"Strangely, I'm not sure what has caused his pain. Perhaps a bad reaction to the Glimmer, though I've never seen anything like this before." Pansy thought Pearl's disappointment at her not knowing the cause of Neville's pain had more to do with the fact she couldn't replicate it as opposed to his actual suffering.

Harry chose that moment to take the phone from her hand, and Pansy witnessed a completely different side to hero everyone thought they knew. Something far darker. "If he dies, I will take you and all your wolves down if it's the last thing I do."

He ended the call, and Neville's screams cut off leaving a blistering silence.

"One of your guys is in her employ," she told him, thinking of that pervert that grabbed her ass. Avery.

"What?"

"That's the only way she would know what Neville calls me," she paused. "He only called me that in private, except once, the first time. At The Offices."

The information seemed to shake him. "I'll find out who."

Pansy held up the Mana Bomb.

Harry nodded.

"Run," she shook the bottle in her hand and looked up to the camera knowing she was about to start a war between the Aurors and the wolves.

She and Harry made it out of the building not a moment too soon. A strong wave of ozone hit her and she realized maybe the Mana Bomb hadn't been the answer. After all Glimmer was nothing but crystallized magic and a Mana Bomb used magic to _implode._

The entire building folded in on itself not three seconds later, causing an actual explosion of fire to puff outwards, taking on an odd blue tint. She grabbed onto Harry's collar and started pulling him even further back.

Just in time.

A rolling thunder boomed behind them and they fell forwards, scraping knees and rolling to a rough stop. She looked up and watched as a giant column of blue light flooded directly up into the sky, a vortex of magic and blue fire curled towards the heavens. She could smell magic breezing past her, being sucked into that vortex, the roar so loud it hurt her ears.

The hair on the back of her neck stood straight up, seemingly lasting forever.

Hands over her ears, she felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Les standing over her. She took his hand and he led her away from the roar. "Les!" she shouted. "Are you okay!?"

"Me? What about you!?" he shouted back, the tendrils of magic breezing through his blonde hair. "C'mon, I saw Harry get out on the other side of the street, let's get out of here!"

oOo

Neville walked ahead of Pearl and Posy, knowing if he made one wrong move Posy would be the one to pay the price. It kept him steady, the decision not to move against Pearl right away. The small knife he hid behind his jeans did little to comfort him though. He had a friend, a Muggle, who worked as a police officer in London before he moved back north to care for his aging parents. He liked to say, 'Never bring a knife to a gunfight'.

Having never held a gun, or been in a gunfight before, Neville didn't really understand the saying. Until now.

Pansy always seemed to have the upper hand over him, always a step ahead with a trick up her sleeve… but she had nothing on her mother. All the strength in the world in his hands and yet he couldn't make a move against one very tiny witch.

She directed him from a Floo Room through what he could only assume was a Manor. Wealth built this extravagant, large home, but it seemed a cold, heartless place to him. No family portraits or pictures, trinkets or evidence of trips or travel. No sign that anyone actually lived in the building, only expensive decor and furniture that looked uncomfortable to sit on.

Behind him he could hear a sniffle or two from Posy, but mostly Pearl directed him to a staircase that led downwards. He had to dunk his head to avoid hitting it against the low ceiling board. "All the way down please, Mr. Longbottom."

She liked it, the power she had over him. He could tell from the tone of her voice. The stairway was dark, and he almost ran into the door at the bottom. But walking through that door into the bright room beyond nearly blinded him, so much so he almost didn't believe who he spotted inside the room, watching a row of televisions.

"Hiya partner," the man said to him.

"Ah, Mr. Hastings. Would you do me a favor and go and fetch my ornery daughter? She's at Daphne's warehouse," Pearl managed to make it sound like a request and an order at the same time while directing Neville to stand in the corner of the room.

But Neville could only breathe through his anger, watching Les nod regally in Pearl's direction before he turned towards the T.V.'s and scanned them quickly, finally tapping on a screen. "There she is, she's at Bardon's."

He didn't know what Bardon's was, though it sounded sort of familiar. But the information made Pearl pause, her calm manner dissolving immediately. "She's _where?_ "

"Bardon's, my lady."

"Go along and fetch her for me, Lester," Pearl's anger radiated as she walked over, looking at the screen Les had tapped on. Then pulled out a sleek looking cell phone from her dress robe pocket.

Les walked by Neville without an ounce of fear on his overly flat face, dipping through the door with a mock salute. And Neville thought the gesture might drive him to murder. He never wanted a partner again.

Between Pearl putting through her call and Les leaving, Posy managed to sidle up to him. A little ball of charming energy, despite all that happened. He straightened his face and knelt down, wiping away the tears on her cheeks. "Do you know where we are?" he whispered.

"Home," she told him with a sniffle. "Pansy's _not_ allowed."

"Are there wolves here?"

"Loads," she nodded, grabbing at his hand with her tiny fingers. "Most are compelled, the Glimmer works even if magic goes out. But some are just loyal to my Mother."

Irrationally, he wanted to wrap Posy up in a warm blanket then go find and pummel every person who ever harmed her. She seemed too sweet to be a Parkinson, when she spoke of the compelled wolves it sounded as if she pitied them for their situation instead of blaming them for her own.

"My sister trusts you," she continued in a small voice. The oddness of looking into eyes identical in color and shape to Pansy's, but on a tiny wolf with more courage than he would have ever guessed, really threw him. "She doesn't trust _anyone._ "

"Nope," he didn't think Posy's assessment that Pansy trusted him was all that true, _he_ certainly didn't trust her, but maybe.

"But she's never talked about you before."

"Yeah," he wasn't surprised. "I didn't know about you until a few days ago either. She loves you a lot."

For the first time, Posy smiled. And he sunk. He realized he would do anything to make sure this little girl survived.

Then Neville heard Harry's voice.

"Mr. Potter, I'd love to have a lengthy chat with you but I need to speak with my daughter," Pearl said into the phone. Her words had Neville standing up. How did she know Harry's phone number?...

Oh right, his 'partner'.

"Pansy's House of Horrors, this is Pansy speaking. How may we scare you today?"

Holding back a laugh, Posy tugged on his fingers again. "How do we get out of here, I can't let her lock me up again."

He missed whatever Pearl said next, instead watching the screen as Pansy stepped beneath the security camera Pearl was monitoring, giving out her usual sass. He wanted to pay attention to Pearl and Pansy's conversation, but he worried about what Posy would overhear. "Neither your sister nor I will let that happen, okay?"

"I believe you," she said quietly.

"I was shocked to find out Pansy had a little sister. We went to Hogwart's together you know? Always fighting each other. I was short and chunky and I tripped all the time, and she made fun of me every day."

"But she's so nice!"

Neville actually laughed that time. "Yeah, maybe to you!"

As he said it, he heard Pearl speaking. "If you dare, I will kill this man you love so much just like I killed the last one," Pearl turned to pin Neville with a look, one he recognized after spending so much time with Pansy. But with Pansy he would have felt excitement at such a sour look, instead he felt immediate danger from Pearl.

He kept talking to Posy, "Then when I became an Auror, she became a Spellthief. And it always seemed like I was chasing her around, trying to get back the stuff she stole."

"You liked it," Posy guessed and even better, she smiled again. "I can tell."

"Yeah, I did," he smiled back. "I would do anything for her."

"What is it that he calls you?" Pearl's voice rose, making both him and Posy turn their attention back to the conversation. "Kitten?"

The first chance he had, he was going to twist Lester Hastings neck for sharing his secrets.

"What? A nickname and you think that's love? He's always been my enemy, we love to hate each other. And do you really think I care about Harry Potter? He was an idiot when we were in school and he's an even bigger idiot now. Slow too, he'll never catch me if I decide to give this Mana Bomb a proper shake. And then," Neville heard her take a deep gasp, for effect. "Boom! Gone! Bye-bye Glimmer! Whatever will you do, Mommy Dearest? But, you give me Posy, and you send her with Longbottom, I will give you your Glim back."

Neville rolled his eyes. That would never work, Pearl went through extreme lengths to get both him and Posy back into her control, no way she would allow them both to leave. Pansy should have known that, and tried to just bargain for Posy. He could survive Pearl long enough for Pansy and his friends to storm the castle.

"Your lover is rolling his eyes, is that a habit he picked up from you?"

"My lover is dead, remember?" Pansy shot off quickly… and this time Neville couldn't do a thing to distract Posy from the conversation.

Posy's big indigo colored eyes turned to Pearl as they filled with water and the baby howl she let out faded into big, gulping sobs. It distracted Pearl enough that Neville made the decision to attack. Rushing after her, she dropped her phone to the ground and glided out of the way with far more grace than he thought she would be capable of, side stepping him in a twirl.

Two guys swarmed into the room on cue and charged right at him, swinging with more strength than a human could possess. Wolves. Their eyes glittered and they fought well, but Glim still functioned as a drug. Dulling the senses and fogging the mind. Neville easily knocked out one before he turned to deal with the other.

But he made the biggest error the moment he took his eyes off Pearl. Would he ever learn to stop underestimating a Parkinson?

Arm out as he reached for where the wolf previously stood, Pearl's slender hand dipped into her robes and pulled out a device that looked exactly like the one Daphne Greengrass used on Pansy. Faster than he could blink, she injected him with a shot of black Glimmer.

Never had he touched the drug before in his life. It burned fast, so quickly breaking through his skin that his eyes instantly watered and he dropped to his knees in pure shock. The smell of burnt, caustic acid filled his nose. He watched the black crystal fizz and sink as it dissolved into his blood and an instant later bright sparks began shooting underneath his skin.

Neville knew something was wrong right away. _Very_ wrong.

There was no high, he didn't start thinking of sex and fall into oblivion. It felt as if the Glimmer attacked his very cells, spreading through his blood vessels one by one. Much like a burn, he didn't feel the pain right away until it too late. Too hot. And too far gone to do anything about.

His strength waned for the first time since the experiment that gave him his supernatural ability, as if the Glim diminished it as it spread through his body.

Nothing hurt worse in his life. Not being stabbed, not being tortured, not being under the Cruciatus. He didn't realize he was screaming, until he felt magic sap out of existence. Then he passed out.

oOo

The vortex raged, hungry and consuming, pulling and demanding. Pansy left Les on the ground and climbed easily up onto a nearby building, crouching low on the edge three stories up and watching in fascination as the swirling blue tornado sucked streams of magic into itself.

It stayed stationary, thankfully. But it didn't stop for a full ten minutes, the blue colors growing ever deeper. Pansy realized that the more it consumed, the slower it moved, until finally, there was no more magic to pull in and it collapsed from the sheer heaviness, crumbling into the ground.

The earthquake that followed rocked the building she rested on as the city came alive with the sound of glass breaking and sirens. Cars crashed and she heard a nearby scream.

A true sight to behold, but as she watched the imploding vortex sink into the earth, seemingly taking magic with it, her mind went back in time to the day she visited her father before leaving for Spain. Feeling the weight of his gift fall into her pocket as she kissed him goodbye.

 _My little spitfire._

The best advice her father ever gave her came on her 11th birthday. A big age for their kind. He told her, ' _The world will always beat you down, it won't ever be fair. How you react is what makes you who you are, if you get angry, fine. Use it. Use it to beat the world back. Use it to be who you are.'_

Anger kept her company when she had nothing else, kept her sane. Kept her _alive._ She didn't let it control her, she used it to _fuel_ her. She wondered, could she be angry and, dare she say, in love at the same time? Because there was no way around it, she _sucked_ at this whole Auror charade. Running around with Neville, trying to stop the bad guys.

 _She_ was the bad guy. The one in the shadows, stealing valuables, lying to get what she wanted, fighting for the thrill of it.

Standing there, on the roof of a dirty city building, watching the vortex sink into the earth, she felt the whisper of doubt. She wasn't qualified to handle this. But she refused to sink into the ground with magic, refused to give in to the self pity like she did at Malfoy Manor. Draco wasn't around to guilt her into getting her shit together this time.

She had to rely on herself.

"Pansy," a ghost whispered.

God. She admits she might be in over her head and then she starts hearing Theo's voice. "Hello, my name is Irony."

"Seriously, _Pansy…"_

"You coward," she turned to face Theodore, ready to swear his name into the earth for being too afraid to face whatever came after death.

But the rest of her sentence cut off when she saw his pale floating form breaking apart into shredded pieces, slowly sucked away towards the vortex. "Theo?"

"Don't trust that one," he managed to gesture to the ground beneath them. "And there's one more thing… about your mother…"

"Wait Theo, don't go now…" Bits of himself kept breaking off, floating slowly towards where the vortex continued to sink into the earth like some heavy mass.

"Magic is leaving this world. I can't stay. But your mother…"

"Magic is what?" she felt too confused to follow what he said. She'd been in a lot of strange situations, but standing there, on that city building, while magic got sucked into an imploding blue tornado, talking to her dead ex boyfriend really seemed to take the cake.

"It's been on it's way out for awhile now, but you just gave it the final shove. I don't know what will happen but Pansy this is serious, something you have to know about your mother and Moreau!"

"You're dead," oh no she was going to start crying wasn't she? "And somehow you're leaving me _again..._ and all you want to talk about is my fucking mother?"

"I shouldn't have left the first time," he shook his head and his eyes seemed paler, the edges of his skin starting to fade away.

She couldn't believe he finally said it. After every fight they had, ripping into each other, saying the worst things they could, getting back together only to do it all over again, he never admitted that he made the first mistake. That what he did broke her far more than fucking Jacques Moreau ever did.

That he told her she was broken and ended their relationship because he couldn't deal.

"Don't leave again, Theo."

His mouth opened, "Your mother - she knew -"

Too fast, he faded away into bits of magic before disappearing all together. "Fuck," she wiped at her cheek. Couldn't they do anything right for once? She'd never get the chance to make things right with him again.

 _Don't trust that one._

Did he use their last chance together to warn her?

She peered over the edge of the building, spotting Les as he leaned casually, waiting for her. He hadn't made a fuss when she left him to get a better view of the vortex. He just seemed so earnest, as was his usual. Had she fallen for an expert act? Neville mentioned to her that he was fresh blood around The Offices, a new Auror.

She pulled up her hood and backed away, wondering who the hell could she trust in the Auror department? Any of them could be spying for Pearl. Any _number_ of them could be spying. Breath caught in her throat as the darkest thought of all crossed her mind.

Could Neville?

Was it possible she fell for the biggest dupe of all time? He'd become so good at his job over the last few years, he almost seemed a different man. Angrier and harder, maybe too much had happened. Maybe he switched sides.

And she had sent him for her sister, never once considering he could be on Pearl's payroll.

 _No._ Pansy placed a hand against her forehead and took a deep breath. _No,_ she told herself again. She knew damn well his anger stemmed from the brutal nature of his case, what happened with his old partner, the accident that gave him more strength than he thought he could handle.

He asked her to hold him to a higher standard, and she was failing miserably.

Annoyed with herself, and pissed that she managed to lose Theo _again_ , she found a fire escape on the other side of the building. She quietly took the steps down to the ground, to come up on Les from the opposite direction. Her blade fell into her hand and she paused in the shadows, to really think it over. Theo said not to trust that one, did he mean Harry, or Les?

Neville would never work for her mother. Would Potter? The rest of the wizarding world might love blowing bubbles up his ass, but still Pansy thought not. He was too powerful on his own to partner up with Pearl, if he wanted to be the bad guy, he could be the bad guy. Instead of enjoying a life of fame and power, he ran the Auror Department, not exactly a stress free job, and he did it well.

But Les… Les was there the night Neville called her Kitten. He was the one who found the _Adelaide_ , found the connection to Daphne's husband. Who cared about a couple of boxes of Glim if it would throw off her and Neville off the trail? After all, they had an entire storage room full of the stuff. Daphne had been _ready_ for her, she realized then. Les had been in the perfect position, none of them questioning his hyper enthusiasm and his earnest demeanor.

Making the decision, Pansy limped forward, "Les, I need help."

He automatically turned towards her, hands coming out to help stabilize her. "What's happened?"

"It's just sinking into the earth," she told him in awe, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Like it's so heavy it can't stay up."

His eyes went wide, as he reached down to cup her ankle, which she lifted up for him right away. Using their closeness, she took a subtle, but not too subtle, sniff at his neck and the abundance of cologne there. "Earthquakes and blue tornadoes aside, I actually meant what's happened to your ankle, love?"

"'Love'?" she breathed out, sinking a little more in his hold. "No one's called me that since Theo and I broke up for the third time."

His eyes finally met hers and she forced the edges of her lips up, though the brown of his eyes weren't dark enough for her tastes. It was easy to convince him of her interest, when he already wanted it. "What about LB?" he asked in a slightly breathy voice.

"Longbottom?" she laughed. "Please, you know him. It's all 'Shut up' and 'You're under arrest' and 'Stop stabbing me!'"

"Yeah… He doesn't appreciate you, does he?" Les continued to hold her, one hand gently rubbing into her ankle. The two of them shifting closer. Around them the shaking settled, the noise retreating.

"That feels good, thanks," she placed a hand over his, skin to skin contact ramping up the chemistry she orchestrated between them. "It's not his fault, he's not a bad guy. Just the opposite actually, he's a good guy. A hero. Not my type. I like 'em with a bit of danger, you know?"

"Yeah, I can see that about you," his voice lowered as he continued to look into her eyes. "You need someone to get into trouble with you, have your back through all the mischief."

"Yeah," she repeated, forcing her breath to go a little quicker. "That sounds pretty much perfect … for … me…"

Les leaned in, pulled in by her eyes alone. She knew how to do bedroom eyes on command and Les had had a little crush on her since the fight at Diagon Alley. Just as his guard lowered completely, she jerked away.

"Ouch!" she reached for her ankle.

"Sorry! Sorry," Les released her leg, the moment over.

"Not your fault," she faked a laugh. "It's mine. I twisted it up there, after I ran into Theo."

His face turned stark white. "Theo? He's dead or I mean, I heard he died?"

"He did. Ghost now. Well, not now, not anymore. That vortex is sucking all the magic out of the world apparently."

"Wow, what uh - I can't imagine - what - did he say anything?" Les managed to bite out the words.

She looked back up and right into Les's big, brown eyes. "What do you think he said? Ah ah ah," her blade pressed into his throat between one breath and the next. "Don't move, Lester Hastings, else I'll slit your throat with my pretty little blade here."

"Oh Kitten-"

"Don't you dare 'kitten' me, Les. You've been working with my Mother? For how long? This whole time?" And she'd fallen for that earnest little act without another thought.

"Did she compel you?" she continued, holding her blade steady. She already knew the answer. He didn't show a single sign of using Glimmer, and years of dealing with Theo's addiction taught her every sign there was. "Were you there, when she killed him? While she tortured him? The only man that ever loved me? Were you?"

He winced, a line of red appearing on his throat as she spoke. Finally he admitted, "I guarded the door."

Pansy pictured her blade carving through his neck, pictured how easy it would be. And how satisfying to be the one the end his life, snuff it out for his part in Theo's death. She _wanted_ to watch Les take his last breath.

"You don't have the guts to do it," he whispered to her. "She told me what you could have been in Rome, you left because you couldn't handle it."

Head tilted, she dropped her signature blade from his throat and put it away. "Maybe LB's been rubbing off on me a bit," she trailed off quietly. Then she pulled a different knife and sunk it into his shoulder with one smooth motion, pinning him to the wooden wall behind him.

He shouted in surprise, then pain, allowing her time to do the same thing to his other shoulder. "I did leave Roma, and I think I cried the entire way back to London."

Taking his hand, she petted him gently while he struggled, but the more he did, the more he moved against the sharp blades, the more he bled. She continued telling her story. "I didn't want to leave, you understand? I finally found a place to call home." Another knife came to her hand. "I thought I found a family, Les. People I could _trust_."

His hand shook as she pinned it with a swift jab, delighting in his sharp cry of pain. "But, Les, _oh_ Les," a roll of her eyes and she made a show of patting herself down, as if she were searching for another blade. A playful giggle as she slowly pulled free the one on her hip. Long, sharp, it glinted in the soft glow from the nearby streetlight. "I didn't leave my beautiful city because I couldn't handle it, I left because they couldn't handle _me."_

She stabbed his other hand, zero hesitation. His scream echoed between the buildings. "Now, before you pass out from the pain, _love_ , why don't you tell me where my Mother is? No? I don't want to make this worse for you, but I'm feeling kind of… dare I say… gutsy? So how about it?"

"She's," he sobbed, "She's at Parkinson Manor."

"Oh good, very good Lester. I'm not going to kill you, because Theo suffered a lot before he died. I want the same for you."

She pinned his ankles next, just to make sure he couldn't get free, and he finally passed out, his head lolling forward. Lots of sensitive nerves around those ankles.

It didn't make her feel better. It should have, causing him pain, making him bleed. Maybe if she managed to do the same to her mother, maybe then. Maybe.

Pansy made her way back towards where Les found her, the last place she saw Potter. Caught sight of him only a block over, blood dripping from his ears as he leaned against a light pole, catching his breath.

"Where the hell did you go?" he half yelled at her. She realized his ankle was twisted in a way ankles _should not_ be twisted.

"I found your spy," but she only had one goal. Plucking the walkie from his hand, she studied the buttons before looking back to Potter. "This is Pansy Parkinson speaking, I'm here with your boss, tell them where you are Harry."

He was unsure, but she wasn't acting threatening. Not yet. He rattled off the street address.

"One block over you will find Lester Hastings. He's been a naughty boy, working with my Mother, who in case you haven't been made aware of, is a murdering, drug dealing, child abusing whore of a woman who kidnapped Neville Longbottom and is currently torturing him."

She let that settle in before continuing, "If I find out that any of you idiot Aurors have so much as said hello to Pearl, I will do to _you_ exactly what I did to poor little Les."

She dropped the walkie into his hand and then got under his shoulder, helping him to his feet. He grunted but they managed to find a rhythm before he asked, "What did you do to Les?"

She helped him down the street towards Daphne's warehouse, back to his people, trying not to let the pain down her front hurt her too much. Trying not to let the grief she felt make her foggy. "He's alive."

"You don't have to do this alone," Harry told her.

"No offense, but I don't trust you, _or_ your department right now," she started.

But he stopped her, and said the one thing she would have never expected. "Like it or not, you're one of us now."

She paused to stare at him, but he seemed entirely serious. "Excuse me while I just go gag a bit."

"Bobbi would be pissed, but I'd give you a badge," he said with a wince as they started up again.

"I'm not a damn hero, so I'll pass. And pick up your fucking ankle, I'm strong enough to hold you up, c'mon now." She might have been snapping, but in her defense she was having a very, very bad day.

"It's not about being a hero, it's about getting a hard job done when no one else can, and that's you. Charming personality isn't a job requirement."

"Ignoring the fact that I just threatened your entire department, what job did I get done between getting my old lover killed, my sister held hostage, and my current lover tortured?"

"You unlocked the secret of The Fern, saved Annie Stokes, _twice,_ and stopped the wolf murders. Shit happens, and you deal with it. I could use that in my department. Even better, Nev _needs_ that. So will you just shut it and accept our help _for once_?"

"Christ, you sound like Neville right now." Turn over a new leaf, become an Auror, and spend her days kicking ass. _Yeah fucking right._ Maybe when pigs fly. "I'll make you rue the day you decided to be my friend," she told Harry.

oOo

She had exactly one Mana Bomb and zero patience left.

oOo

Neville came to, laying face down on a dirty, cold stone floor in the dark. He didn't feel high, but he did feel as if he went twelve rounds with a grizzly bear. Two of them. He thought his 7th year at school had taught him the meaning of pain, but the things the Carrows did to him paled in comparison to whatever the hell Pearl did.

More, his strength was completely gone.

Which became evident when he attempted to break the heavy chains around his wrists. But he could barely lift his arms up.

Bits and pieces slowly started coming back to him, Pearl above him, pushing more Glim into his skin. Her vicious whispers filling his head as he screamed in the dark. He managed to sit up before the door creaked open, the outline of a tiny girl briefly illuminated before she shut them back in that darkness.

"Hi," she said sadly. A wet cloth came to his forehead and he felt water at his lips. He drank deeply, nothing having ever tasted as good. "She doesn't know I can get out of my room."

"You snuck out to visit me? I feel honored," he tried to grin but his muscles did _not_ work.

"You're my only hope to get out of this," she sounded ten years older than her actual age. "But from what I heard through the wall, my chances are getting slimmer and slimmer."

"Is your mum always so welcoming?"

"At least you're alive," she continued to wipe his face with the cool cloth, the motion soothing beyond relief. "What did she do to you? I don't understand, I've watched her drug so many wolves with Glim and none of them ever… sound like that before."

He must have scared the daylights out of her with his screaming. "Sorry kid, not sure what happened."

Her movement paused. In a quiet voice she said, "I'm not a child."

"Aren't you like nine? I couldn't even tie my shoes at that age," he tried to joke. But he heard a small huff of frustration come from her and she stopped wiping his forehead with the blessedly cool cloth.

"I've been a wolf since I was four," her voice remaining quiet. "You can't be a child and a wolf. A child won't survive the wolf."

"Who told you that?" Neville asked. It was happening again, that urge to coddle her and protect her. But more and more he realized how alike Posy was to her big sister, and Pansy wouldn't take being called a kid well either.

"My friend Sarah, she helped me when I first became a wolf. Her and Kath, they were sisters. Like Pansy and I. They taught us that even though we were so many years apart, Pansy and I could be best friends. That as long as we loved and trusted each other, no one could tear us apart."

Ahh, Neville realized it then. That's how Pansy knew the sisters. They were the ones that helped Posy after she became a wolf. "I'm sorry, Posy. I have a really bad habit of underestimating Parkinson women. I won't treat you like a kid."

"I can't get your wand back, but I did manage to hide this from my Mother," and he felt her tiny fingers place something large and cold in his hands. The _Dolce Mela_. It seemed he was playing a long game of hot potato with it instead of actually using it.

"Thanks," he wasn't sure how the diamond would help when he didn't have his wand, but at least Posy kept it from increasing Pearl's power. "I-"

But then a huge rumble shook the room they were in, a distant explosion that caused dust to fall on his head.

"I better go," he felt her presence moving away in the darkness. "I hope," a sigh. "I really hope you make it out alive."

"Hide if you can," he told her. "That way she can't use you against Pansy." He didn't hear the door open again, but he also no longer sensed her nearby.

The diamond in his hand turned rather cold, but in a comfortable way. Kind of like an ice cold slushie on the hottest summer day. Or a cool shower after a hard workout. The same of relief he got from Posy's wet towel.

Another, smaller rumble shook the manor, so he made his arm move, to stash the diamond in his jacket pocket. If he could snag a wand somewhere, he might be able to cast a few crucial spells and turn the tide of the fight.

Pulling on his chains, he wondered why the Glimmer laid him out like it did. Bad reaction with his strength? Was he still riding that Mana Bomb from earlier? Maybe he was just unlucky in luck, some genetic marker that made his blood explode when it came into contact with compressed magic instead of getting him all high and aroused like it was supposed to do.

Yeah, that sounded like him.

Un-fucking-lucky, every day of the week. Every week of his life.

Ever since he was little, disappointing his Gran and disappointing his teachers, tripping all over himself. The forgetful, clumsy, idiot Neville Longbottom. Didn't matter he managed to grow into his boots and stop tripping on trick stairs, that he started a rebellion in school. Didn't matter that he became a skilled fighter or a seasoned Auror.

"Just once, just one time in my life, can something go my way? _Just once?_ "

He heard people running across the floor above him, a couple of muffled shouts, and then the door to his dungeon banged open, flooding the room with too bright light.

"Get him up," Pearl snapped.

Two wolf lackeys removed the chains around his wrists and brought him to his feet. "Guess that's a no," Neville grunted. It _hurt_ to move. Snark seemed his only option as they dragged him from the room into the bright hallway. It didn't look like a gloomy dungeon corridor like his prison had been, looking instead like a rather normal hallway.

"I'm sorry, is everything falling apart around you?" he channeled his best impression of Pansy, finding that tone of haughtiness that bordered psychopathic. "Do you think it's karma?"

But Pearl didn't say a word, not amused one bit by his sass. She led them away from the noise and fighting above without any words spoken, only stopping to pull a large silver key from her robes and unlocking a massive door at the end of the darkened hallway.

He almost wanted to laugh at the look on her face when she realized the room was empty. Is that how he looked every time Pansy outsmarted him? That dumb, mouth open, eyes wide look as she realized _nothing_ was going right?

But she deserved it and more.

"Has little Posy run off somewhere? Whoever will you torment now?" Except he regretted his short lived stint in flippancy when Pearl turned her hostile gaze on him.

"Whoever will I torment now?" she asked thoughtfully, looking to the wolf cronies on either side of him. It scared him how similar to Pansy she sounded just then. "Let's see, Peter and David know I am driven by the thought of causing others pain. It fills me with a deep sense of power. Money can present in power to an extent, fame as well. A family name, you might be somewhat familiar with that, Mr. Longbottom. But Pain…"

She paused as if to savor the very word, as if the mere suggestion of harming another gave her life. "Pain can motivate even the _strongest_ willed individual to cooperate, reveal delicate information, even keep a secret."

Motivate was such a nice way of saying torture. But that begged the question, what she wanted from him that would merit torture, especially the kind Pearl liked to dish out. She hadn't so much as asked a question of him after that last bout.

She grabbed onto his chin. As she lifted his face, her sharply manicured nails dug into his cheeks. "So, who will I torment now you ask?"

A shiny piece of Glim, a dusty pink in color, came into his view then. Held between those damn manicured nails. "This piece should be at least half strength, I don't want you passing out this time."

"Wouldn't want that," he agreed, failing to calm his wildly beating heart. "But it would be in your best interest to keep me alive."

"Is that so?" she cocked her head, exactly the same way and direction as Pansy always did. A little to the left, her chin rising to make her face look sharper. It scared him more than ever thought it would, the similarities between them. His adult life he spent chasing after her, but he'd never been afraid of Pansy.

Until recently.

"I can see the motivation is starting already."

"Who else will stop Pansy from killing you? Why do you think I showed up at that warehouse? To help her commit a crime? Please, I went there to _stop_ her."

Pearl held the crystal inches from his skin, her two lackeys practically drooling on either side of him, but his words managed to give her _some_ pause. Not for his claim of protection, he could tell. He felt disturbingly like a bug being examined.

"You just continue to surprise me, Mr. Longbottom," and he didn't hear a lie in the words. "Very well, I won't torture you any longer. I'll just use you to torment my daughter instead."

oOo

Pansy stood with the Aurors, a patched up Harry, Ron, and Bobbi, just on the outskirts of her childhood home. From their place behind a tall wrought iron fence, under the soft glow of fire lit lamps, she could just make out the main gardens. The wide, low seating benches where her and Theo had made out only about a millions times during the summer after 6th year.

She spotted the stone walkways where Posy and her had drawn with chalk until their fingers were dusty with color, the wider bit in the middle where she and Theo had taught Posy how to dance. They'd walked around the property twice while Pansy searched for the weakest link of Pearl's blood ward, wondering what cruel thing would happen to her if she dared cross the line without disabling it. The others would probably be fine, simply find themselves suddenly at the front gate with a strong urge to leave the area.

Unwelcome guests being herded away.

But Pearl keyed it to Pansy's blood the day after her Papa's funeral. The agony of trying to walk through the front door had sent Pansy to her knees. The sign couldn't have been clearer: stay away for good.

It also gave them a chance to count the guards. All twenty of them. Harry, being the master strategist, came up with the plan while Pansy began breaking the ward. It would take hours to bring the entire thing down, due to the size of her Mother's property and the complexity of the ward. She didn't have hours, but they just needed a doorway.

She worked in silence, but listened to Ron update Harry and Bobbi on the children they rescued. "Muggles, that's why we didn't know about missing children, because she took Muggles."

"Pearl is smart, she didn't want to draw attention from the Aurors as she most definitely would have done if she started taking children from our community," Pansy told them. The flash of horror on Potter's face told her she wouldn't have to worry about such a scenario ever happening again. He would make sure of that.

She continued, "She paid Greengrass to set me up, thinking you would just throw me in prison."

"Still plenty of time to do just that," Bobbi said under her breath.

Pansy shot the stunning blonde a smirk and wondered just how tough this well groomed bombshell really was.

French manicures and bright blue eyes without a single hair out of place, this Barbara O'Donnell that went by Bobbi looked more suited to a life on some fashion magazine than running the entire Auror Department.

Those Aurors all had wands, though they were tucked away while magic was out. But Bobbi also brought a medium sized battle axe with her, though she seemed far too petite to wield such a weapon with any skill. Like a child playing pretend.

She wore tight blue jeans and a fitted black jacket, casual wear just like the guys. She wondered what they'd been doing before Neville rallied them up. She said, "Don't you dare hurt another more of my Aurors."

They'd barely spent any time at all together, and axe aside, Pansy's gut reaction was to hate the woman, as she so obviously hated Pansy. Something about those sharp baby blues reminded Pansy too much of her mother. She held herself like a woman who knew she was in charge, a woman with power. But that damn axe… how many had underestimated Pansy for her size. She wouldn't do the same with Bobbi.

"If any of them have been helping Pearl, I'll slit their throats while you watch," Pansy met Bobbi's eyes and held her gaze for a full minute.

"Stop it," Harry interjected, stepping between them. "Pansy, I told you I would take care of my Aurors. Focus on the mission."

"She didn't expect me to work with Longbottom on his case," Pansy went back to unraveling the ward, turning her attention back to the threads. "I don't think she ever realized our history together."

"Aw, mummy doesn't know about all your thievery?"

Ohh, another woman who hated her. Surprise, surprise. "You snark," she couldn't help but say. "But I love it when people are mean to me, just means I get to hit them."

Bobbi chuckled once, sounding confident. "I dare you."

"I would, but beating up harmless puppies doesn't do it for me, do you even know how to use that thing?"

Bobbi reached for her axe before Potter stopped her, his hands covering hers.

"Ladies," he warned. "Focus please, this isn't the time to get distracted."

"Who the hell you calling 'lady'?" Pansy said, unable to resist the urge.

"Definitely not you-" Bobbi started.

Ron interrupted, "Probably need to be quiet now, I see two guards coming this way."

"Just remember the plan," Harry whispered to them, meeting Pansy's eyes. Silently saying she needed to shut it and hurry up. But they had to squat down while the two guards passed by, their eyes watchful but not nearly alert enough. They didn't expect trouble, after all, who would be crazy enough to talk on Pearl.

Except she'd finally crossed the line. Taking Neville had been a sure fire way of attracting the Auror's attention.

She liked Harry's plan, except that they were splitting into two groups and he stuck her with Ms. Bitch who literally had an axe to grind. She turned back to the ward, a complicated twist of blood red threads that was starting to give her a headache. The pain in her head was nothing compared to the ache coming from her chest though, her breastbone definitely broken. Distracting her.

Threads fell apart, the ward trying to cope with her meddling, and she heard it again. _Focus, Parkinson_.

Her head, Neville's voice. She might have thought herself going insane, except her mind listened without argument, taking all the aches and pains she'd put her body through the last week and shoving it into a box in the corner of her mind to be dealt with later.

Her vision sharpened, the bright threads parting as she worked, and she ignored Ron's question of what exactly she was doing until she'd wedged a big enough door for them to fit through. Just enough that it wouldn't alert her mother, just enough that it wouldn't put them on their asses.

"Go now," she said pausing her movements, picks hovering in the air. The threads continued to move and mesh, pulsing with the life of the ward, but a tiny gap had appeared. "One at a time."

Ron went first, ducking at her direction, then Bobbi. Harry nodded at her, and stepped through. She spotted the bulge of his jacket pocket, knew he had her last Mana Bomb. Him and Ron were going to draw the guards to their position at the front, while Bobbi and herself went around back, the closest entrance to the basement.

Pansy knew the prison Pearl built for Posy had been attached that basement.

She took a deep breath, sending sharp aches through her chest, knowing she would have never made it this far without the help of the Aurors, and stepped through the doorway she made.

Smiling at the lack of response, she slid her picks back into her cuffs. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't surprised by how well she fit in with the team, the bickering aside. Harry and Ron split off together, far quieter than she would have ever thought, as if they had done the very same thing millions of time.

Bobbi's face didn't change from its cool annoyance. "Don't get in my way, unlike Nev, I _will_ throw you in jail if you step out of line."

"Why exactly did Harry pair us together again?" Pansy asked as they quietly made their way to the back of the property. She knew the best way to go to avoid being spotted, after all, she grew up on this land.

And quite unlike Nev, Bobbi didn't indulge her banter, remaining silent as they moved. Their goal was to enter undetected, and find their way into the basement where Neville, and Posy, were most likely to be found. Harry and Ron would wait for Bobbi's signal that they were safe inside before drawing attention to themselves using Pansy's Mana Bomb.

They made it to the back terrace without running into a single guard, both of them taking the stairs up slowly, eyes watchful. Bobbi signaled her towards the door, her gaze sweeping outwards on lookout. Hands coming up to opposite wrists, she removed her picks once again and started picking the lock on the back door.

At least they could work together in silence.

But as the door cracked open, their luck ran out. Two men and one woman, came at her from the inside room, the door ramming into her, throwing her off balance.

She heard one yell, "Pearl says no survivors! Kill any intruders!"

The closest man swung out his fist after that and and nailed her right in the jaw. She heard a worrisome pop as she fell on her ass. The same man bent down to grab at her cloak, pulling her up to swing again but he found an axe in his back the next moment.

His look of surprise mirrored her own.

Bobbi pulled the axe out of his back, the blood dripping off the steel, a look of rage on her pretty little face as she started in with the woman. It was clear none of Pearl's guards were prepared to fight against actual weapons.

Pansy pushed the first man off her after he collapsed, pulled a knife from her boot as she rolled up. So the bombshell knew how to use that axe, what a surprise. Pansy watched the graceful steps she took, the perfect swing that slashed the woman's chest in two, and she prepared her knife. No way in hell she'd let her have _all_ the fun.

Bombshell Bobbi turned towards Pansy, her axe held up and ready as she looked for the third guard, but her eye landed on Pansy's knife. Which she hurled right at Bobbi with all her might. She savored the flash of betrayal on Bobbi's face before she realized what Pansy had done.

The knife soared just over her shoulder and landed in the neck of the third guard, with a bloody spurt, the man grabbing at his neck as he fell over. They both watched as he struggled for breath before going still. "'No survivors'? I think your mum is more of a bitch than you are."

"Do you have to be so cruel to me?" Pansy fake pouted.

"You are seriously twisted, you know that?" Bobbi wiped off her axe and gestured for Pansy to lead the way.

"Twisted? Yes. Also glad you know how to handle that baby axe of yours."

"I'd rather a wand," Bobbi fake smiled at her. "Oh but now it looks like magic is permanently gone, so thanks for that."

Maybe. Except wards still worked.

Pansy couldn't help returning that fake ass smile right back at Ms. Bombshell. "I was thinking of you the whole time, oh so why don't you tell Harry we made it inside so he can blow up half of my childhood home now."

"Now that I would love to do."

Rolling her eyes, Pansy led them through the terrace door just as a large explosion came from the front of the property. Everything shook before settling, earthquakes the new norm. They went down a hallway that hadn't changed in years and reached the door to the basement.

It opened, and Pansy pulled Bobbi behind the door before whoever stepped through spotted them. Another few guards, running off towards the explosion. "Why don't you go help Harry and Ron?" she suggested, watching as more guards joined the first group.

Bobbi looked tempted, but her hard eyes clearly said she thought that a terrible idea. "I can't leave you alone, I don't trust you."

"I'm the best one to go up against my Mother. I know her far better than any of you. Potter isn't _bad._ And Weasley… well I guess he's, and I can't believe I'm saying this, halfway competent. But we counted at least twenty guards on the grounds, all of them running at those two. More are coming from inside. They could probably use the back up."

But Bobbi still shook her head. "Your priority is still your sister, I need to make sure Neville's okay."

"My priority _is_ Posy. But… Neville…" she floundered for a long second, losing that focus she needed, her fingers coming up to the emerald pendant that hung from her neck. "Believe me when I say I've never said anything like this in my life before. But I'd rather die than let anything happen to that man. I wish I could go back to hating him, it was so much easier."

"Now that I do believe. All right. Fine. _Don't die._ _Don't_ get hit with Glim again." Bobbi shoved the small walkie into her hand and took off towards the front of the house, her axe raised at ready.

These damn bossy Aurors were driving her crazy. _Don't kill anyone. Don't die._ Don't take Glim? Seriously, these were not things she wanted to do. Normally. Pearl excluded.

With an eye roll, Pansy lifted her hood and slipped into the stairway down after checking it was clear. Harry's plan truly was good.

But hers was better.

This would never be over until Pearl was permanently dealt with. Let the Aurors round up the compelled wolves and save the day. Pansy would do what she did best.

She took the stairs down and found herself yelling out, "Oh Mother, I'm home."

Only when she reached the bottom she found two guards holding Neville by his arms, keeping him still while Pearl leaned over him, holding a shiny piece of Glimmer between her fingers. Really? She couldn't take him into a dungeon or other creepy area of the basement to conduct her horrifying torture schemes? She had to do it right there in the middle of the hallway? "Oh Mother, you need to work on your torture etiquette."

"My beloved daughter," Uh-oh Pearl did _not_ seem amused. "What impeccable timing as always."

"I just had a feeling you were ready to see me again," she smirked, but damn did Neville look bad. It seemed like he lost weight, his muscles not as defined, his skin a pale grey interrupted only by the harsh red Glim burns in his arms. Three on each, dotting up along his vein.

"Ready, oh yes. I'm ready for you," Pearl signaled the two guards holding Neville to attack _her._

It was almost easy, after killing the last guard, to slice them open with her dagger. No survivors had been Pearl's decree. It was self defense. It felt like dancing, her body gliding through the air, her dagger an extension of her arm.

Afterwards, Pearl stood next to Neville's crumbled form, but his eyes were on her. She held the Glimmer threateningly. "It hurts him," she said to Pansy. "I can't compel him. But it hurts him so much when I force the Glim into his blood. Lights shoot up and down his arms. I think it's the strength potion in his blood, I think the magic of the Glim is igniting it. Can you imagine the kind of pain that would cause? Can you imagine the pain of your blood boiling beneath the skin?"

"Can you not get off on my boyfriend, _mom?_ It's kind of weird."

"Boyfriend?" Pearl laughed.

"You're right," Pansy gasped. "I'm not 17 anymore. Boyfriend isn't the right word. He's more of a project."

"So callous with your lovers," Pearl purred as she bent down to run her fingers through Neville's hair. "What did you expect to gain from toying with this boy?"

Pansy barely resisted the eye roll. Only someone as demented as Pearl would look at Neville and not see a man. A tough one. "What else? He was a bit fun in the bedroom, but I needed help to get to Posy. Which he did."

Then she threw her dagger down at Pearl's feet. "Which is why I surrender."

Her eyes met Pearl's as she reached her hand down to pick up the blade. "You can't compel him and he's more trouble to you dead than alive. But me? Daphne proved that Glim can compel me just fine. You let Posy go and I'll come willingly."

Her words rang like a bell.

Never in her life had she seen her mother so surprised and Pansy knew the surrender was not something Pearl ever considered before. The two of them too different from each other, milk and oil, two things that should never go together.

She saw the inquiring gleam in her mother's eyes, knew she was trying to spot the lie. But that just meant Pearl was considering the offer.

The silence only interrupted when Neville moaned, "No, don't do it."

"Shut the hell up, Longbottom. You're only part of the deal because I don't want the Aurors up my ass," she turned back Pearl. And laid it all out. "Imagine the kind of team we could make, Mother. I sure as hell can take on any wolf, and these pathetic Aurors are easy to manipulate."

"You wouldn't," Pearl shook her head no. "They kicked you out of Rome because you weren't the assassin they thought you were. I need a partner who can get their hands dirty, like Daphne."

Pansy laughed, a real laugh. It hurt. "You know damn well I've killed before. I've killed three of your wolves just tonight. I've always done what I wanted, when I wanted it. Imagine if I wanted what you wanted. I'll take the Glim willingly. I'll be your blade. As long as you don't harm him or Posy, I'll take it. And we can fuck Vistain right up his pompous ass and take control over the wolves just like you want. All you need to guarantee my loyalty is in your hand."

Pearl rolled the small piece of Glim between her fingers, considering. Considering. "You blew up all of my supply."

"So, we make more," she shrugged. "We pin the wolf murders all on Daphne, who let's face it, is a total bimbo with moron lackeys. I have so much more to offer. Oh we'll need more wolf blood. Does it have to be little children or will any wolf do?"

Pearl smiled slowly, and Pansy knew she'd made a decision. It wasn't the prospect of working together. Rather, the idea of having Pansy on a leash. _Finally_ in Pearl's control. "Any wolf really. The children are just easier to control, their blood is more pure. Makes for a better batch."

"We'll make more," Pansy smiled back, and right on time a stampede of footsteps sounded just above them. "Better make your decision fast, Mother."

"Take the Glim," Pearl held up the dark pink crystal.

"Where's Posy?" she countered.

"She's escaped."

"Like I believe that," Pansy crossed her arms.

"It's true," Pearl looked at Neville. "Isn't that right, Mr. Longbottom?"

He grunted, attempted to roll on his side, barely managed it before he started panting. He looked like hell. He bit out a, "You can both kiss my ass."

"What spirit he has, I could pump him up with some more Glim, _the pain_ might get him talking."

Pansy took the opportunity to prove herself. She walked over and grabbed at Neville's jacket, pulling him up just to punch him right in the mouth. "Where is my sister, Longbottom?"

He spit blood out on the floor, and she could practically feel how weak he was. He gave her a bloody grin. "I don't want to give you the satisfaction."

"What's the matter, babycakes? You mad at me?"

"Yes, you break one law working for her and I'll chase you down."

"Back to business as usual then? Fine by me," she smirked. She made sure her mother heard the truth in her voice. "I never loved you. And if you don't tell me where my baby sister is, Aurors be damn, I'll kill you right here."

Pearl grinned, and Neville… his eyes turned sharp.

His strength might have been gone, but he knew when she lied. He _always_ knew when she lied, even when she spoke a language he barely understood. "She escaped," he admitted. "I hope you never see her again."

Good man. Smart man, playing along. She knocked him out, left him on the floor, battered and bleeding, and came before Pearl. With a confident motion, she removed the pin that held her cloak in the front and allowed the lightweight fabric to fall to the ground behind her. She undid the twine that held her sleeves tight to her arms and rolled the left one up, revealing old Glim scars beneath the newer ones Daphne added.

"Savor the moment, _Maman_ ," she offered her arm to Pearl's pretty pink Glimmer. All she needed was one moment to get close enough. Even if she took the Glim, she wouldn't be caught in a lie.

Pansy had no problem trading herself for Posy.

"I'm actually intrigued by the idea of working together," Pearl took a small step closer, a small smile on her perfect face.

 _Focus, Parkinson._

"But we both know it'll never work out, daughter," Pearl took the final step and Pansy moved, taking the blade she stashed away in her cuff, a small thing to be sure, but all her knives were sharpened to a deadly point. She had it against Pearl's throat between one blink and the next.

"Ah ah ah," her mother whispered to her. "What do you think Mr. Barton will do to your sister if you kill me?"

A high pitched whistle later, and Marcus appeared from the opposite end of the hallway, dragging Posy behind him by rope. She dug her feet in and jerked her bound hands trying to escape, but Marcus was a full grown wolf. She didn't stand a chance.

Worse was the betrayal that ripped through her heart. The sheer heartbreak. Both at seeing the glittering in Marcus's eyes, knowing he'd been at Pearl's tender mercy since the night at Club Dread.

But the heartbreak came because she couldn't believe _Neville_ lied to her. She trusted him. She allowed herself to trust him, allowed him to strip away all her armor and all her weapons and look at bits she never showed anyone else.

He'd become the damn voice in her head.

"Idiot," she called herself, though she was looking at Marcus as she spoke.

That made Pearl smile even more. "Those Barton's make lovely pets."

"The deal still stands," she bit out though her throat had grown tight. "Let her go, I'll come willingly."

Pearl laughed, "And give you more chances to slit my throat? I think not."

The knife fell from her hand and bounced across the floor. "Was there ever a time you had love for me? In thirty years of life, was there even a moment of love you had for your daughter?"

Her voice broke on the last word, eyes growing wet. But her feet carried her forward when Marcus, his movements jerky and slow, discarded her cuffs and remaining weapons, and tied her up with the same rope that bound Posy.

At least they'd be together for a bit.

He took them through the door he originally came from, and down another set of stairs. Pearl hadn't just built a prison for Posy, she'd added another level to the basement. No one would find them, the door hidden in the wall. Not by magic, just a perfect seamless wall that opened if you pushed it in at the right place.

Pearl followed, pleased as punch with the turn of events. When she spoke, Pansy shivered with fear. She was out of ideas. She played her hand and Pearl had out maneuvered her. Pearl's story was meant to scare her, and it did.

"I was excited to be a mother, to rock my tiny child asleep in my arms, to sing to her the sweet lullabies my mother sang to me," she hummed a bit as Marcus secured Pansy in large metal clamps chained to the wall. He removed the rope afterwards at least, but then pushed Posy into the corner hard enough Pansy heard bone snap somewhere, followed immediately by muffled sobs.

"To experience what it's like to love someone unconditionally," Pearl continued without blinking. "I wanted to feel that love coursing inside of me like nothing else, to truly know what it would feel like not to be a selfish woman any longer. I thought having a child would finally cure me of that flaw I'd had all my life, my stout inability to care for others. I couldn't even find it in myself to love your father, not as wife should love her doting husband.

"I _wanted_ it so badly, to understand what it would feel like to love someone other than myself. I prayed every night of my pregnancy for the Gods to send me a child to cure that selfishness right out of my soul. I got down on my hands and my knees and begged that of them. I cried and pleaded for it. Every single night. And you know what the Gods sent me?"

"Me." Pansy leaned into the wall behind her and watched Marcus shuffle out of the room without a word. She hadn't expected the confirmation to hurt as much as it did. It was one thing to suspect her mother was incapable of loving her, quite a different thing to know.

"What about Posy," she asked, looking over to her sister in the corner. Where she cradled her bent wrist in her good hand, but her sister glared at Pearl with all the hate in the world. "I always believed you truly loved her."

Marcus returned then, dragging Longbottom by his arms. He went into the corner along with Posy.

"Tarrant always believed Posephine was a late in life baby, he'd grown quite old by then, but it isn't _unheard_ of for someone of his age to father a child."

The worlds made Posy's sniffling go silent, made Pansy jerk her head back to look at Pearl. "You're lying," Posy stammered. "You _always lie!"_

"You turned out so much like the Parkinson's," Pearl knelt beside Pansy, ran a finger over Pansy's sharp nose. Tarrant's nose. Her Aunt Trina's nose. "I thought perhaps a different gene pool would allow Posy to turn out more like my side of the family."

"Tarrant was my Papa!" Posy cried out. "He sang Wild Horses to me when I was a baby just like he did with Pansy!"

"Ohh, but it didn't work out in the end, did it?" Pansy let out a dry laugh. Thinking of how her relationship with Posy had always annoyed Pearl. How Posy's bright blue eyes had slowly darkened over the years, until they were more like Pansy's. "Posy's more like me, and we both get it from _you._ Is that why you locked her up?"

"I needed her blood," Pearl's amusement faded. "Now, if you excuse me, I have to go clean up this mess of Law Enforcement that you brought into my house."

"Have fun!" Pansy called out. "Potter's a pain in the ass and he hates you almost as much as I do now!"

The heavy door shut with a loud thump of metal on metal. Groaning, Pansy threw her head back against the wall behind her. She was out of tricks. Out of ideas. And out of hope. Locked up in a room with a drugged up wolf whose brother she murdered and a knocked out Auror she would never trust again.

And for some reason all she could think about was sitting on Neville's lap as he traced a line from the center of her chest up her neck, driving the harsh memories of Jac right out of her mind and filling it with himself. _Bastard_.

Oh.

Her neck.

She looked down and grinned. Her back up, back up plan.

"Okay, new idea," she looked up to Marcus. "Come here."

"I can't help you," he mumbled, sounding nothing like his normal, cocky self. "She told me not to let you escape."

"What about you?"

Marcus's eyes seemed a little less dull. "No, she said, 'Don't let Pansy escape, whatever you do'."

"So not Posy, not Neville?" She sighed in relief. "Come here Posy, take my necklace."

"I can't let you escape," Marcus stepped forward, driven by the Glim to do as Pearl commanded.

"I'm not escaping, you are. With them." She nodded to Posy. "Come here sister, take my necklace. It's a portkey. Made before magic went away."

Posy's hands were bound together but she stepped forward, shaky and red faced as she tried not to cry. "No," her lip trembled, her voice broken. "If we leave you alone, she'll be so angry. She'll kill you."

"She won't kill me." Not right away. "You get Marcus out of here, that way you have a safe place to run during the moon, and you take Neville."

Posy shook her head, more afraid than anything. "I can't, I can't-"

"Focus, Parkinson!" Pansy bellowed, pulling on the chains for effect.

"I'm not!" Full blown sobs now. "You heard what she said! She said Papa wasn't my father! I'm not a Parkinson, I'm not even human according to the Ministry. I don't know what I am anymore."

"Look at me, look me in the eye, Posy. Look in my eyes!"

Pansy held her sister's gaze, wishing she could physically hold her. Wishing she could _shake_ her. Wishing to hell she could snap her fingers and make everything better for the two of them. "What do you see, baby sister?"

A sad, low whine came from Posy's throat. "Indigo eyes. My eyes."

"That's right," Pansy nodded, smiling. "Who cares who your biological parents are? You're more like me than you are like them. I held you in my arms when you were a baby. I started your training when you were barely walking. I taught you how to sing and dance. When you became a wolf, who took you to the families?"

"You," Posy wiped her face. "It was you."

"You are my sister, and that makes you a Parkinson no matter what Mother says. No matter what the wolf families say. No matter what The Ministry says you. Are. A. _Parkinson_."

Still shaking and crying, Posy's hand came out and finally took the necklace from Pansy. "What do I do?"

"Put it on, and hold onto Neville, Marcus, hold onto the necklace. All you have to do is push the emerald in. It's not slotted all the way."

It seemed a massive task for such a small girl, but Pansy knew Posy could do it. Even tied up and with a broken Marcus hovering over her, she managed to get the necklace on with her one good hand. "Hold on to me Markey," her lip continued to tremble. Then she turned stubborn. "Promise me you'll make it out of this."

She met the bright eyes of her tough as nails sister and did the one thing she was best at. "I promise, Sister."

oOo

Harry wiped his forehead as his men took away drugged up wolves one by one. All were sporting glittering eyes and fresh Glim burns but for one. That one would be taken directly to the Offices for questioning.

The rest Harry sent to St. Mungo's. Treatment would come first. Then he was going to root out every spy from his organization.

"I want this place completely searched, anyone on Glim goes to St. Mungo's, anyone else goes to the Offices for immediate questioning. We need to find Pansy," he added to Bobbi who looked just as sweaty as he felt.

They'd run down every wolf on the grounds. "I'm sorry, we thought you could use the extra help. Don't worry, we both know she can handle herself."

"I know, I'm not questioning your choice, I just want to find Neville."

Bobbi nodded and began her trek towards the house when his walkie buzzed. "Uh, Mr. Potter, this is Humphries, sir. I'm with Mr. Malfoy at his manor and we have Auror Longbottom, Marcus Barton, and a kid claiming to be Posy Parkinson."

" _What?"_ he grabbed his walkie.

"Sir, they came in via Portkey. Mr. Barton and Auror Longbottom both need immediate medical attention."

"Is Pansy with them!?"

"No, sir."

"Get all three of them to St. Mungo's, I want any available personnel to get to St. Mungo's and keep it secure. We have dozen of wolves on the way there," he ordered. It'd be tight, already most of his men were trying to contain the chaos and attention going on with the blown up Glim that turned into a vortex.

He met Ron around the front and they began their search of the house. "She has to be somewhere!"

They found Pansy's cloak and cuffs in the basement hallway but two hours later and there was no other sign of her or Pearl's whereabouts. "Okay look we know Pearl uses hidden doors and we know Pansy went down into the basement. Check every wall, check every brick, check every corner. They have to be here somewhere."

Ron rubbed his eyes as he helped with the search. "Is it possible they bolted together?"

"There's no way she let Pearl get away without a fight," Harry said, remembering the look in Pansy's eyes after she crucified Lester Hastings.

"Maybe Pearl had something over her," Ron offered. "Wait, do you smell smoke?"

oOo

Several days later, Posy held Draco's hand as he led her through St. Mungo's. Her other hand was wrapped up in a hard bandage, having broken a few bones. But she was a wolf and it would heal fast so long as she didn't mess it up more.

St. Mungo's didn't look great. She read about the wolf attack in the paper when it happened several months ago, recognizing the name of the wolves who decided to infect all the patients and staff before setting fire to the building.

It was a wolf tactic used to take advantage of the fact that wizards didn't know how to put out fires as effectively as they used to. And with magic permanently on the fritz, Posy thought they needed to get their act together before the more devious of the wolf factions really made a mess of things.

Because the same tactic had apparently been used on her home and since then no one would tell her a single thing about what happened.

"You remember what I said?"

She nodded.

Theo had always been her favorite, but Draco was the reliable one. The one that came after Pearl had thrown her in a padded cell, the one that told her Pansy was coming to the rescue. He'd been a lot nicer since Tory passed away, and she felt really bad for him. Tory had been the best of Pansy's friends and it sucked when she passed.

"I remember," she told him softly. How could she forget being told they found her mother's remains next to Pansy's dagger? That before Pansy came to rescue her, she asked Draco to do something so illegal Posy didn't even understand it.

"Mr. Longbottom is our best bet, right now. The Ministry wants to take possession of you."

"I'm not property," she told him, trying and failing to keep her voice even. She sure was sick and tired of repeating that.

"I know that, Ms. Posy," his voice went all soft like it did whenever he called her that. He'd always had a soft spot for her sister, and that soft spot had always extended to her as well. He stopped them in front of a hospital room and knelt down. She hated when adults did that to her. "My priority right now is you, all right? Your well being."

"I remember," she repeated, pushing him away. "I'd like to talk to Neville now, okay?"

"Of course," Draco stood and knocked on the hospital door. She felt guilty for her outburst. Draco was just trying to help her.

"I might need you to explain the situation though, because to be honest I don't understand it _at all._ "

At least she got him to smile a bit.

Inside the room, Neville Longbottom sat in a wheelchair, looking out the window as he spoke to a tall woman with long red hair who wore bright yellow healer's robes. His head turned towards their direction as they walked in.

"Hey little wolf," he gave her a crooked smile that made her cheeks heat. "Stab anyone else lately?"

"Only you," she smiled back. "Feeling any better, Mr. Longbottom?"

"Just call me Nev," he told her. "Susie here tells me I'll be in the chair for awhile yet."

She turned towards the redheaded woman, "Nice to meet you," she said politely, holding out her hand.

"Likewise, I'm Healer Bones. But you can call me Susie, thank you for saving my friend," she didn't lean down like most adults did. Just reached down to take her hand. Then she turned to Draco and held her hand out again. "Mr. Malfoy, nice to see you again after all these years."

Posy didn't really believe she meant what she said to Draco, but he shook her hand anyways. "Healer Bones. We have some legal business to discuss with Mr. Longbottom."

"Of course," Susie shot a smile and a wink at Posy before she left the room.

She decided then she liked the Healer. She treated Posy like a human.

"What's going on?" Nev asked once the door was shut.

"What's going on is no one will tell me anything about what happened after we Portkeyed away from Parkinson Manor the other night," Posy crossed her arms and just barely resisted glaring at Draco.

"If it makes you feel better they won't tell me either," Nev kind of shrugged, but she caught the wince on his face when he tried to move.

They both turned to Draco. "Before I brought Mr. Buchanan to you the other night, Mr. Longbottom, I made a stop at my old office."

"Is that so? And what did you do there?"

Posy got the feeling Nev didn't like Draco one bit.

"You lost your badge recently, did you not?" Draco asked coolly. "You don't have to answer, I already know you were fired from your position as Auror. But that allows me to tell you this in confidence, a confidence I know you won't break because it would adversely affect Ms. Posy here."

She couldn't help pushing on Draco's leg. "Don't be mean, Draco, just explain it."

"Yeah, don't be so mean, Draco," Nev mirrored her crossed arms.

"I illegally broke into a magically sealed document belonging to Pearl Parkinson and changed it to say that should anything happen to her, her property would go to her remaining daughter Pansy. I then illegally changed the same document belonging to Pansy to say that if anything happened to _her_ , her property wouldn't go to Theo as previously stated."

"What property?" Nev's eyes narrowed at Posy.

"Me," she waved sarcastically.

"So where does the little wolf go now?" Nev asked. "You?"

"No," Draco shook his head. "Pansy asked me to change it to you."

That was the only part Posy understood. Somehow or another, this Neville had earned Pansy's trust enough that she wanted Posy to go to him should anything happen.

Nev looked shocked. "Excuse me? Are you saying…?"

"I'm saying that Pearl Parkinson is dead, her remains were found burned, underneath the rubble of her estate, next to this," he removed Pansy's dagger from his briefcase. It didn't look like it had survived a fire. "No other remains were found, not enough to declare Pansy dead. But as her whereabouts are unknown, that gives you power of attorney."

"Layman's terms?" Nev asked.

"It's up to you what to do with Posy, she's your property. Until such a time that Pansy is found, and if she's found dead, or never seen again, you retain all legal rights to both her property and Pearl's."

"I'm. Not. _Property."_

"Damn it, Posy. _I know that,_ " Draco's voice rose as he spoke to her. "I would never treat you as such either, but legally, yes I'm sorry that's exactly what you are. To the Ministry of Magic, you are a wolf first. To be owned. And I want you to go to someone who is going to treat you as the little girl you are and not the property they make you out to be."

She rolled her eyes. But then Nev wheeled his chair to point directly at her. "Hey, give us a minute, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco looked down at her, and she realized he was waiting for her to assure him. She nodded, remembering the way he'd wiped tears off her cheeks back at Parkinson Manor. If Pansy trusted Neville, Posy could as well. After all, he helped rescued her friends, came to Parkinson Manor to rescue her, and ended up getting tortured nearly to death for it. She could give him a few minutes of her time.

After Draco left, she held her head up high and met Nev's eyes. He said, "What do you want to do?"

"You're asking me?" she asked, shocked.

"Of course, I promised you I wouldn't treat you like a kid anymore, remember? A kid can't survive the wolf, right? So... Where do you want to go?"

"First," Posy took a deep breath. "Pansy told me that she would tell me what happened to Theo, after we got away from my Mother…"

He visibly turned white. "You two were pretty close, weren't you?"

"He's my best friend, and Pearl told me… she said…"

She wanted to know. She needed to know. "Pearl told me she spent a lot of time with Theo a few nights before I saw Pansy again, and I know they weren't knitting sweaters."

"You really wanna know?" he asked, but he seemed willing to answer.

"Yes, I need to know, Theo is my best friend."

"Pearl Parkinson tortured him for hours before leaving him to die and be found by your sister," Nev told her slowly. "I was with her when we found him."

There it was. Posy had known it would be bad news, but somehow that hadn't prepared her to actually hear the words spoken. "I'm really sorry," Nev said.

"I have another question," she spoke slowly, so her voice wouldn't break. She didn't want to appear weak in front of him when he was the only one treating her with any respect. "Why does my sister trust you?"

"Well now that's a loaded question I'm not sure I can answer with much certainty," he finally said. "But maybe… the two of us… we've been enemies for a long time and that kind of animosity… what I mean to say is… being forced to work together after hating each other for so long maybe led to us realizing some deeper feelings… for each other…"

Her eyebrows rose as he stumbled over his words, clearly not knowing how to answer her question.

He hissed out a breath. "Yeah let me try again. I hated her until I realized what she'd been through, and then I didn't hate her. I actually admired her, and I don't think she's ever had that before. And she knows, even if we don't get along, I would still do right by her."

There was a knock on the door, Draco sticking his head back in. "Shall I come in again or do you two need a little more time to sort things out?"

Posy waved Draco in. "I'll stay with Nev," she told him, gesturing to Neville and his wheelchair. "He obviously needs help."

"Obviously," Nev joked, but she recognized pain when she saw it. Pearl taught her many things, things that would make people's nose hair curl. Posy pushed that thought away though, and focused on the now.

Draco cleared his throat. "Just a small warning," he directed his words at Nev. "People might talk afterwards."

"Let them," he responded. "Posy can handle anything."

She _really_ liked Neville.

"Do you think she left me?" Posy asked her last question, the one that burned her mind for nearly a week now. "A few people have told me that she left me in your care so she could take off."

"Maybe," Nev wheeled over to his bed where Draco stood, bringing out papers for him to sign.

"So you think she abandoned me? How can you think that?"

"Because the alternative is that she's dead, and I refuse to believe that," Nev signed his final paper and turned back to her. She felt like everything in her life just changed. "Give her some time, she'll show up again. She always does. Pansy Parkinson couldn't bear to let me forget about her."

 **End of Part One**

* * *

And that's the last chapter... of Part one! This chapter was so fun to write. And just so you know, Pansy is not dead. And she did not bail. And you will find out what happened in part 2! My precious word monster is turning into a an epic fic and I'm not sorry because I love writing this fic so much. As for right now, I'm going to take a small break to finish up my Ron/Susan and this cute little one shot I've been messing with(Nev/Pansy of COURSE) and then I'm all spellthief. We have a lot of wrap up. Magic, wolves, Italians, and where the hell did Pansy go? ;)


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N:** Thanks everyone for the awesome reviews! I'm glad you all liked the last chapter. Any guesses as to where Pansy has gone to? 1000 magical internet points to whoever can guess right! :)

* * *

 **Part 1.5**

 **Chapter Twenty Three**

 _(2 Months Later…)_

 _It wasn't me._

Hands running through his hair.

Dancing over his shoulders.

 _Not me._

A single finger traced the scar on his shoulder.

 _I would have stabbed you in the heart._

 _It wasn't me._

"Longbottom!"

Neville jerked up, his t-shirt sweated through and stuck to his skin. "Nev!"

"Posy, what's wrong?" Two months since he'd taken Glim and his muscles still weren't working properly. At least he didn't need the damn wheelchair anymore.

"Wrong? Me? There's nothing wrong with me, I'm perfect," Posy stood over his bed in the dark, but he could practically feel her pre-teen sarcasm. "You're the one screaming bloody murder in your sleep."

He placed his hand under his shirt and pressed against the raised scar on his shoulder. It burned, a chill so cold he yanked his hand back. "Yikes…"

"Yikes? You scared the bejeebers outta me, and all you got is 'yikes'?" she flipped a light on. Not for herself. She could see just fine in the dark.

She did it for him.

"How about, sorry, I had a bad dream. Now get the hell out of my room. And your grammar has taken a serious turn for the worse since you came to live with me," he pushed the covers off himself, grabbed his cane, and made for the bathroom.

She sneered at him, a full on Parkinson sneer, an expression he was all too familiar with. But it looked strange on Posy, who acted sweeter than pie most days. "You're _welcome,"_ and she marched out of his bedroom.

"We need boundaries," he shouted after her. "I don't come into your room!"

"Good!" she shouted from across the hall. "Everyone already thinks you're a pervert!"

"I'm not a damn _pervert!"_ he slammed his bathroom door just when he heard Posy's door slam shut.

Malfoy warned him this would happen.

He didn't usually care. Let them talk about him, him and his supposed 'purchase' of a young female wolf. Better than them knowing the truth about Posy. He didn't want any of Pansy's ghosts coming after her. But damn if it didn't drive him right up the wall to hear the disgusting rumors going around about him.

Standing in the bathroom, he stripped off his soaked t-shirt and threw it to the ground, looking at the scar in the mirror. It glowed ice-blue. But no ache. No pain, other than the constant throb from his muscles.

He couldn't remember his dream… but he had the faintest memory of… what was it?

"I would have stabbed you in the heart," he said to himself. That's what he dreamed. Her voice. Of the damn woman who wrecked his entire life, whispering to him how she would have stabbed him in the heart.

"Just _great_."

He dug around in his cabinet for something to soothe the ice, not sure what that something was. A bandage maybe. Instead his fingers found his old cologne. _Quoram_ , it said in handsome script.

He went to throw the glass bottle away, knowing it would piss Pansy off. It would _hurt_ her. If she was even alive.

But he stopped halfway.

It _would_ piss her off.

"Bitch," he stuck the bottle back in his cabinet, biting back old anger.

The next morning went much the same as his mornings had been lately. Posy made him eggs, he was back to having problems holding one without breaking the shell, and some toast. He made leaded coffee and wobbled over to the kitchen table.

"Are you still grouchy?" she asked, setting a plate in front of him.

"Only if you are," he drank from his coffee mug and scooped some applesauce into a bowl for her, which she devoured right away.

"That's a yes," she ate twice as much as him usually, chomping down several eggs and slices of toast before he could barely start on his own. He took a bite and added more toast to her plate.

"I'm not grouchy, and I told you last night. I just had a bad dream, okay?"

Her lips pinched mid bite. "About my sister?"

He could kick himself for promising not to lie to her. Not to treat her like a kid. Over the last two months there had been many instances where his gut reaction was to tell her a fib, to either spare her feelings or keep the situation as uncomplicated as possible. But so far, he managed to stay true to his word.

"Yep," he stabbed his eggs, making the plate groan in protest. He kept his promises. And this one… this promise to tell her the truth… it was doubly important that he keep it. Because no one had ever kept such a promise to her before.

"Wanna go somewhere with me?"

"Maybe if you work on your grammar. Seriously, it used to be a lot better."

"Nope, mah mama used tah make me speak proper and I ain't gonna do it no more," Posy smacked her lips, sounding like a young British aristocrat pretending to be an American biker.

She kind of sounded like Hal. "Where do you wanna go?" he asked. They were still working out the kinks in their relationship. He was her guardian.

But not her father.

He hadn't a clue how to be a father, but he thought he might be a decent big brother.

Posy said to Mrs. Malfoy a few weekends ago that he was the most stable family member she'd ever had.

"It's a surprise," she smiled, voice back to normal. Sometimes she looked so much like Pearl it would stop him in his tracks, his body seizing in anticipation. Preparing for torture.

But most of the time she looked like his happy little wolf.

Witty, like her sister.

Smart, like her mother.

And sweeter than pie. He wondered where the hell that came from. Or who.

oOo

They Floo'd to St. Mungo's, ignoring the yelling coming from Susie's office and walking down the hall to one of the bigger rooms that had been cleaned out. The restoration coming along, if slowly. At the door they ran into Harry and Bobbi. They were dressed for work. Bobbi in her business attire. Harry in his robes. Both had badges pinned to their hips.

Super. Awkward. Nev hadn't seen Bobbi in two months. Not since she tried to give him back his badge and he threw it at her feet. Well, he tried. His arms would barely move after what her mama had done to him. His muscles just _didn't_ work for several weeks. His strength all but erased.

He had acted like a big fat baby.

"What are you two doing here?" he asked them.

"Ms. Lovell," Harry gestured to Posy. It was the new last name they'd given her. "Asked us to set this up for you."

"Oh?" He looked down at her, and she might've shrugged a little _too_ innocently.

She'd been planning this for awhile now. Big baby aside, Nev had done a lot for her. Not just taken in her in, but he actually seemed to, dare she think it, _care_ about her. She'd expected an absentee parent, his only motivation for taking her in being that she was Pansy's little sister. Instead he'd asked her a question the first night she lived in his house. ' _What do I need to do to make you feel safe?'_

Asked that question from his wheelchair, after having suffered a lot for her.

 _Really suffered._

"What are you up to, Po?" he asked, always jumping straight to suspicion.

She crossed her arms. "Why do you always assume the worst?"

He rolled his eyes. "I know your sister."

"Ooo," she pointed at his face accusingly. "I get no appreciation."

Then she opened the door. And a dozen happy, healthy, recently returned to their parents after being kidnapped kids bulldozed right into their saviors. The majority going straight to Neville.

Posy remembered the way he stood between them and her mama. A protector. A hero. Trading himself for little Lysa. It hadn't taken a genius to figure out his grumpiness didn't come from his pain, as she first thought. But from some mixture of Pansy leaving and his hard case that had nearly gotten him killed.

He needed a release.

Needed to remember why he'd gone though what he did.

And Posy knew the kids wanted to see him again.

His cane fell from his grip and he went down on his knees, but Posy didn't worry. He was hugging the kids he saved, and for the first time in a long while, he didn't look so angry.

Then it was her turn to wipe the tears from his eyes.

oOo

"Maybe you want to try Dreamless Sleep potion?" Susie suggested over dinner a few weeks later.

"Do you have any? Most of my funds are going towards Posy's wolfsbane potions right now," Neville told her, giving Posy a smile as he did. A rare sight. He _never_ smiled, if he could help it. But Posy managed to get him to laugh a whole two times so far.

She stuffed her face with as much carbonara as possible and didn't speak. She was starting to feel horrible about the burdens she placed on Nev by coming to live with him.

Despite his slow recovery, he still managed to build a massive stone wall around his property. By hand. Shelling out major gold to have it warded, the cost triple now that magic had become so rare and unreliable, all so she couldn't leave the premises in her wolf form. It gave her a safe place to run during the Full moon.

And those wolfsbane potions couldn't be cheap. She was also eating wolf sized portions and though Nev never said a word otherwise, she just knew money was starting to be an issue.

"No, but I'll look for you," Susie took a bite of her own carbonara before turning to Posy. "What have you been up to lately?"

"Well," she wiped her lips with her napkin, her mama's voice a bug in the back of her brain. Buzzing. Always buzzing. Manners had been a big to do with Pearl. If only she thought human lives were worth the same.

"Nev and I are looking for Pansy obviously. But he's also trying to help me track down my biological father."

"Back up," Susie dropped her fork. "What's this about a biological father?"

"Something my mother told Pansy and I right before the fire," Posy looked away from Nev as she spoke. That had been her fault too. She should have gotten him out of there instead of worrying about herself, and then getting caught.

"She told me my papa, Tarrant Parkinson, isn't my real dad. And I kinda believed her."

"Any leads?" Susan asked, looking towards Nev.

"Not yet," he looked at Posy. "Not giving up though, right little wolf?"

He liked to call her that. To remind her she was tough. That she could handle anything.

"Nope, no quitters at this table," she wondered if Susie would care if she licked her plate.

oOo

Bobbi dropped by a few months later, the summer in full swing. He had been dodging her phone calls for days now, so he knew it was only a matter of time before she showed up in person. He'd just hoped he would be out of the house when she did.

No such luck.

"Neville," she said quietly. "Have a minute to talk?"

"Yeah," he sighed, and stepped aside, allowing her to enter his house.

He missed her. Missed Connor. Missed working together and Sunday dinners. He missed their friendship. And, not that he would ever admit it, he missed his job.

But he was expecting another damn inquiry into his 'motives' behind purchasing Posy, even though he managed to squash the last two. Amazing how the Ministry was so bent on classifying wolves as dangerous creatures, even going so far as to suggest tagging them, but somehow became as relentless to the reasons behind wizards who owned them.

His friends knew the truth. Posy was a Parkinson, Pansy's little sister who was a wolf and had no family to rely on. But the public thought that she was just a orphan, Posy Lovell. Nosy assholes were only interested because of his 15 minutes of fame during the war and wanted to milk it dry.

"I have some not great news," Bobbi informed him once they settled at the kitchen table with tea and the ginger biscuits Posy had a serious taste for.

"Alright. Lay it on me," he braced himself.

"You know Susan took some DNA from Posy, to help search for her biological father?"

"Yeah," he remembered Susan attempting to explain what DNA was to him and Posy.

"She took some from the remains we found at Parkinson Manor, to help establish a baseline for Posy. The DNA from the remains should have been a 50% match to Posy."

"Right."

"Nev, they didn't."

Damn. He'd been wondering for months now about that. They had no way to identify Pearl's remains without magic. Only an old wedding ring that had been on the left hand of the corpse. Posy had identified the family heirloom.

"So," Bobbi continued. "Either the remains are Pearl. And Posy isn't her daughter, or the remains aren't Pearl. And she's alive."

He heard sniffling from the doorway.

"Dammit, Posy. What did I say about eavesdropping? I'm not going to shut you out of important conversations. I promised not to treat you like a kid. Remember?"

She rushed into the room, golden hair flying behind her, and jumped into his arms. Wailing. But she _was_ a child, no matter how mature she acted. No matter how much she proved she could handle.

Posy was only _nine._

"It's Pansy! It's her! She died for us!" she sobbed, even as he held her tight.

"No, little wolf," Bobbi cooed, coming forward to pet Posy's hair. "If it had been Pansy, there would have been a familial match to your DNA. Whoever burned at Parkinson Manor wasn't related to you."

She continued to cry despite Bobbi's words. But Neville had known it would come eventually. As far as he knew, she hadn't cried once since coming to live with him. Not after finding out Pansy was missing, or that Pearl had died in the fire. That Theo had suffered before he died.

She cried until she passed out. Red faced, snot running down her lips, laying against his chest, hiccuping in her sleep. Looking more her age than she ever acted.

"It looks good on you, Nev," Bobbi said quietly after Posy settled.

"What?" She couldn't mean that literally… did she? He might just murder the next person who suggested he'd taken in Posy to treat to his own sick pleasures.

But Bobbi only said, "Being a dad."

"I'm not her father," Nev told her in a soft voice. "Papa Tarrant, _the Death Eater_ , was apparently the only one that was ever good to her growing up. I won't replace that."

"What about Pansy?" Bobbi managed to say the name without showing an ounce of disgust. Neville was impressed.

"I mean, she loved Posy. They were good to each other. But she wasn't around much, I'm gathering. She wasn't welcome at Parkinson Manor after Tarrant passed."

"Any luck finding the bio-father?"

"I've got a few names after talking to Narcissa Malfoy that I can look into, but nothing concrete yet. Even she was surprised to hear Posy wasn't Tarrant's."

"What a clusterfuck," Bobbi leaned back, ignoring her ringing phone. "Look, I'm here for another reason."

"I don't want my job back," he told her, recognizing that tone of voice. "I can't."

It wasn't Pansy, as easy as it would be to blame it on her disappearance. The wolf murders had gotten to him. The sheer brutality of it, all so one witch could have more power, hurt his heart in a way he didn't think possible.

Guess he wasn't as tough as he thought.

"I know you don't want it back," Bobbi reached into her purse and pulled out his badge, placing it on the table between them. "But I'm thinking you'd have an easier time of looking for the she-devil, of looking for Posy's father, if you had this. And before you get huffy, there's something else." Her eyes narrowed. "The last of the potions that gave you your strength?"

Every muscle in his body tensed, remembering the horrific experiment he endured. "What about them?"

"They were stolen from the Department of Mysteries," Bobbi crossed her arms. She'd been against his participation in the experiment from the first. "I know you like to tell everyone that bullshit story about being zapped by lightning and that's how you got your superpower, but I know the truth. And I think you would do anything to stop it from happening to someone else."

He rubbed his eyes with his fingers, feeling cornered. "Damn it, Bobbi. How did The Ministry let that happen?"

"Uh, they're a bit busy right now. Your girlfriend blew up 2 tons of Glimmer, it created a vortex that sucked the magic out of the world, leaving us scrambling to cover up our existence, unable to cast with our wands, and barely able to scrape together enough magic for a ward. Our economy is collapsing, causing the price of potion ingredients and Floo powder to increase tenfold, all while there's a werewolf epidemic happening, forcing us to close our borders. I'm honestly surprised the Ministry is _still_ standing."

He ground his teeth together. "Harry was there too, Bobs, might want to remind the Prophet of that next time you see your friend Fran. Pansy wasn't acting alone, and… she isn't my girlfriend," he added.

Bobbi only raised her eyebrow.

"Hypothetically, if I take my job back-"

"You don't have to have a partner," Bobbi conceded, obviously annoyed. "I'd rather have you, working alone, than not have you at all, Neville Longbottom, the stubbornest damn man I've ever met in my entire life."

"Maybe if Pansy comes back..."

"Oh no," Bobbi shook her finger. "Oh, hell no. Harry Potter will give that woman a badge over my dead body. I don't care that she saved my life. It was a fluke."

He did miss Bobbi. Especially now that he could bring up Pansy just to annoy her.

"Whose dead body?" Posy asked, her voice full of sleep. She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands, and then scrambled off Neville's lap.

"No one's," Neville stood up and went to the sink, wetting a dish towel. "No one is dead."

"Yet," Bobbi smiled at him. Looking a little scary.

"I can't be responsible for everyone," Neville told her, coming back to Posy. He sat down, mostly because his legs were feeling a little wobbly, and began wiping her face with the cool towel. "Are you okay?"

She yanked the towel out of his hand. "I don't need to be taken care of," her face turned bright red. "I-I-" she stomped. "I didn't need _you_ , and if you don't want me here, all you have to do is _say so!"_

Shocked, Neville stood and watched as Posy stormed out of the kitchen and up the stairs before hearing the door slam. _Hard._

"She is _definitely_ a Parkinson," Bobbi stood too, picking up his badge. "Look, Ron's gone off active duty to stay with baby Rosie while Hermione goes back to work, magic's out, and I have _no_ one to take over your training classes. Come back to work, work solo, I don't care. If you get killed because you want to go out all alone-"

"I can't, Bobs. I can't come back to work, I'm sorry."

His tone was final, and she knew it. But he knew she wouldn't give up. It wasn't in Bobbi's nature.

"I'll get back to work," Bobbi said, silencing her phone again. "And you should go talk to the little wolf."

"Got any advice for me?"

"As the oldest of six sisters, yeah, actually. She's what? Nine? Her dad's dead, her sister abandoned her, her best friend is dead, her should-be-dead-and-isn't-mother is abusive and _psycho_ , and she's living with her big sister's boyfriend. She's feeling insecure, dumby," Bobbi patted his shoulder, grabbed her purse, and made for the back door.

"Did you say _six_?"

oOo

He knocked on Posy's door. "Open up."

"Nope." Even mad, she sounded sweet.

"C'mon Posy, it's okay to cry."

"Go away, Nev," she must have thrown something at the door.

"I'm just trying to figure out why you think I want you to leave?" he leaned his forehead against the door frame. He thought he'd been really… well… he tried to be welcoming since she moved into his spare bedroom. But mostly he'd just been in pain the last few months. Stuck in a wheelchair for half that. Maybe he should have paid more attention to her.

And now he realized he hadn't a clue how to reassure her. He was rubbish around crying women.

What would he do if it were Pansy on the other side? What would he say? Nothing. He wouldn't say anything. He'd kick the door in, pick a fight, call her foul names, and they would bloody each other up.

Because he was an _asshole_.

He would never do anything of the sort to Posy, and if anyone ever did, he would break every bone in their body. The idea of some guy, doing to another woman the shit he did to Pansy…

Maybe Posy _would_ be better off with someone else, another few years and she'd be old enough to date. No way, _no way on earth_ , would he be any level of rational when that happened. Any boy she brought home would be eating dirt after Neville finished with them. He felt far too protective over her to think clearly.

"Posy?"

"I'm not in the mood for a heart to heart!"

Yep, he _knew all_ about that tone of voice. "Fine, just let me know when you're ready for dinner then."

The door swung open, as he thought the mention of dinner would accomplish, but her face was wet with tears. "Aren't you sick of feeding me?!" she half asked, half cried.

His eyes crossed, feeling beyond confused. "What are you talking about?"

"It's expensive, isn't it! Feeding a wolf, all the time! And the wall you built, got warded, how much did _that_ cost?! And all the wolfsbane potions! How much are you spending on me! You don't even know me!"

By the end of her rant she broke down into open sobs.

"Uhm," he shook his head. "Can we go back to the beginning of this conversation because I feel like I missed some parts. What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that I'm just a _total_ burden on you, running you into debt, and I don't even know w-w-why!"

He let her cry it out, giving himself time to figure out what to say. What to do. "Well maybe that's because you're not a burden and you're not running me into debt?" Neville crossed his arms.

His Gran had left him a large inheritance he hadn't even touched. He knew how to save money, and he'd been an Auror for nearly 13 years.

"In case you haven't noticed this about me, I don't like lies. I don't play games. So if _you_ are the one that doesn't want to be here, all you have to do is say so. I'll make sure you go somewhere safe."

"But… Why?"

"What do you mean, why? Why wouldn't I, you trust me by now don't you? Hopefully you trust me more than some random asshole The Ministry would pawn you off on. _I_ didn't buy you, I just want to help."

"I can make my own way, _you_ don't have to help me. You aren't my _dad,_ " Posy shouted at him, clearly still very upset. And he hadn't the faintest idea of how to make it better.

"No, I'm not. I'm not trying to be your dad, Posy. But you're the one that decided to come live with me, and I take that very seriously."

"Because of my sister," she sniffled.

"No, fuck your sister," he said without thinking. But then, he'd been pissed off at Pansy for awhile now.

" _Excuse me?_ "

"Yeah, _fuck_ your sister. You think I took you in because of Pansy? You think you're only here because I love your sister? No, you're here because I want you here. I can protect you best _right here_. If Pearl is still out there, I'm going to make sure she can't lay a finger on you."

The look on her face made it clear she hadn't expected him to say what he said, but he nailed the problem. Pearl might still be alive, and the evil witch had made it clear she thought Posy belonged to her and no one else.

"She's… she's alive," she seemed to finally admit it. He realized she hadn't fully processed the news before, too concerned that Pansy had been the body they found.

Then she asked, "You love her?"

Pansy. In the most fucked up way, yeah, he did. Admiration and respect didn't always equal love, but thinking about her in her leathers, muscles moving, a blade in her hand… It was hard to remember what he used to be attracted to.

"Yes, I love her, not that I would ever tell her that. She would stab me. Again."

"Again?" Posy's face turned to horror.

"That's right, you're not the only Parkinson that's stabbed me. You have a lot more to go before you reach Pansy's count." He pulled the collar of his shirt down, revealing the long scar on his shoulder. "And I know she's alive, because this keeps acting up. I keep dreaming of her, telling me she meant to stab me in the heart, real love sick like."

"What happened? She missed?"

"Apparently," he shrugged.

"Because her blade soaked in Heartsblood," Posy bit her lip, sounding as if she were repeating something she once heard. "So it can't harm her heart."

 _Heartsblood_ , now Neville was the one feeling upset. He should have realized… he'd seen the photos of that damn dagger sticking out of Jacques Moreau's chest. He just always assumed Pansy acquired the dagger with the enchantment already in place. He never thought it came later.

She must of had an emotional connection to the blade before hand, to create such a powerful enchantment with Jac's heartsblood. But...

"She didn't love me then," he said cautiously. When they fought, when Pansy stabbed him in the shoulder, it was long before he chased her at The Conservatory. Long before they were forced to work together on his case. Long before they said what they said to each other in front of that mirror…

"She must have," Posy placed a hand over her heart. "You two have known each other for a long time, remember? I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"What is it you needed to hear, little wolf?" Neville couldn't help but ask. "That I love Pansy, or that I'd have taken you in with or without her?"

"Maybe I just needed to hear there was a super strong Auror between me and my mother," Posy's face fell, all the fight left in her vanished in a snap. "She's sick, Nev. Maybe it's not her fault… but… Some women just shouldn't be mothers…"

Pansy once told him the exact same thing.

oOo

His strength increased, muscles contracting harshly, sending him into trembles. Feeling slightly nauseous, as if he were about to get ill. _Don't barf, Longbottom._ He could do nothing but endure it. Muggle medicine didn't work for him and magic only seemed to exasperate his condition. He wished it could be like in the stories, a super power that didn't come with constant, agonizing pain.

How could he be so strong and yet so vulnerable? Just his luck.

But Posy had asked him to go somewhere with her, and the last time that happened, she'd taken him to see the kids that Pearl and Daphne kidnapped. The kids they saved. And it healed a piece of his heart he didn't think he could get back.

Following her bouncy, happy walk down the crowded Diagon Alley street, people looked on with open curiosity. Some with disdain.

But his grumpy stare kept people from approaching them and that was the important part. Until they came up on a little tea shop he had never been to before. Just inside the window he spotted Susie, and Annie Stokes.

"Now what have you done, little wolf?" he asked quietly.

She heard him, he knew it from that small upwards tick of her lips, but she said nothing. Instead, she pulled open the door and ran into Susan's arms. "We _need_ chocolate!"

"It's necessary for our very survival," Susie laughed, pardoned herself from the table and took Posy to the counter. Presumably to order much needed chocolate beverages.

And leaving Neville alone with Annie.

"Mr. Longbottom," the woman stood, seemed to want to give him a hug but stopped herself. She settled on sending her hand out for a shake, which he took right away.

"You can call me Neville," he told her gently, trying as hard as possible not to hurt her with his heavy grip.

She looked far healthier than the last time they saw each other. Her pale skin no longer sickly, no longer marred with Glim burned and cuts and bruises. Her dark hair had grown longer. And she smiled.

That was the best part.

"Thanks for meeting with me," she added in an equally soft voice. A few other patrons of the cafe had looked over, seemingly harmless, but Annie's face had been in the papers and Neville knew all too well that 15 minutes of fame was nothing but a nuisance.

Maybe the choice of location was the reason why.

"How's things been?" he asked.

"I'm okay," she said, and he believed her. "It's harder some days. I don't usually leave my house, unless it's to see Susan."

"She's persistent, that woman."

"Yes," Annie smiled again. "Please sit," she offered a chair at her table and Neville accepted.

They spoke about pleasant, small things for a bit. Weather, Quidditch scores, how good the scones were, before Neville finally asked the question he'd been wondering all day.

"What am I doing here?"

Annie set her mug down before she spoke. "Your… ward? Posy? She wrote me a letter."

That was certainly news to him. Did Posy even have an owl? Maybe he should have checked. He should have gotten one right away if not.

Though he was still partial to toads.

"I see," was the only thing he could think to say.

"She told me you quit your job as an Auror," Annie frowned. "Is it true?"

He hadn't quit. He'd been fired. Rightfully so, but fired. Even though Bobbi had every intention of hiring him back, he couldn't change the fact. He didn't know how to explain the complicated situation to her. "I'm no longer working as an Auror, that's correct."

"But why?" Annie seemed overly distraught. "I wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for you. For you and Pansy."

"Mostly Pansy," he argued.

"Mostly _you,"_ she insisted right back.

He went to tell her that he had Pats posted on that alley for months and never found that room until Pansy came on the case. Then she reached out a trembling hand and placed it over his own.

"You got me off that boat, I would have _died_ on that boat if you hadn't. It takes a really special kind of person to do what you do, and other people need help like I needed. Help that you can provide. You're the best Auror, Neville. I really hope, maybe one day you'll reconsider."

Blowing out a breath, he looked over to where Posy stood with Susie, both of them sucking down huge, iced chocolate something or another drinks piled high with whipped cream and chocolate sauce. Laughing together. Happy.

At the end of the day, something very good came out of his case. He looked back to Annie.

Something _very_ good.

Even after all the pain and trauma Annie Stokes went through, she managed to make it out alive. Sane. And someday, maybe even she could be whole too.

If she could do that, perhaps so could he.

Later, taking advantage of the afternoon sun, Neville dug around in his garden, pulling weeds, trying to work the tension out from his muscles. Physical activity was the only relief. But the day had taken its toll on him, a heavy decision splitting his attention.

He weeded with thoroughness, using his bare hands when he should've worn gloves because he wanted to feel thorns and bristles cutting into him. Wanted dirt under his nails and embedded in the skin. A connection, something to keep him stable when he felt like he was drowning.

He didn't notice Posy had joined him, her training starting to make itself known. He focused on her natural abilities. Much like her sister, she was small, but fast. Quiet. Her wolf gave her strength, but unlike her sister, Posy would never be ruthless, or seek the fight for the sake of fighting.

They started with basic training before he realized she was already quite capable. Then he pushed her harder than he dared, because despite being pissed off at her disappearance, he knew Pansy would expect him to train Posy to the best of his abilities. And for some unfathomable reason, he couldn't bring himself go against what he _thought_ would be Pansy's wishes.

"Are you very angry with me?" she asked after a long minute of watching him decimate his neglected garden.

"No." Why would he be? He stood to throw a few sticks into the fire pit, and thought about her question. Because she contacted Annie Stokes thinking it would convince him to go back to work? She'd been looking out for him, he understood that just fine.

"I didn't mean to set you up," she screwed up her face when she realized he caught her lie. She didn't do it much, and any lies she did tell were often just her misunderstanding. "I didn't do it to _hurt_ your feelings," she amended.

"I'm not angry with you, little wolf." Then, because he wouldn't lie to her and he knew she would keep his secrets, he told her what no one else knew. "I'm angry at myself."

"But why?"

"Because ever since Bobbi took my badge, I couldn't figure out what I am if I'm not an Auror. That's all I've ever been. I don't pursue any hobbies and I don't have family, and I'm not likely to ever get a family. I'm just… nothing if I'm not an Auror. Yet I can't make myself take the badge back, can't make myself go back to work. I feel like a failure."

She took the remainder of sticks from his hands, setting them down beside the pit gently. "I don't think you're a failure."

"You're a bit biased, I think," he half teased but it came out flat.

"You weren't an Auror when you stood between me and my mother," she reminded him, her gaze looking off into the woods. For a flash of a second, she looked exactly like Pearl, head tilted to the left, a somber expression on her face. But then she turned back and smiled sadly up at him.

"If Pansy is dead," she started, barely able to say the words. "Then I don't have any family either. Theo used to tell me blood doesn't mean anything, you can choose your family. I say, let's be each other's family. Then neither of us will be alone anymore."

oOo

Neville took the Floo to Azkaban. Before he took her to the Malfoy's for the day, Posy had wondered why he didn't just use his wand to Apparate, since he still had the _Dolce Mela_ to aid his magic. But he didn't want to advertise the fact that he could use his wand to anyone.

Especially the Italians. He hadn't seen them since Pansy sent that Armand off, but he had no trouble believing they were still after their property. Though, he wondered if he should just return it.

 _That_ would piss Pansy off. Maybe get her to show her face.

The human guard at the front looked downright surprised to see him, the man's eyes darting between Neville's face and the badge on his hip. Neville didn't recognize him, he'd been unemployed for awhile after all. But after a solid minute of the man's shock, he started getting annoyed.

They had known he was coming.

"You done then?" he asked. "I'm here on Auror Business."

"Right, right, uh -"

"Neville Longbottom, I'm here to see Dillon Torres, he's in cell 529," Neville told him impatiently.

He knew how to get there, he knew the layout of the prison even better than most of his fellow co-workers. But he had to be signed in. By a guard. Who looked barely out of Hogwart's and seemed totally shocked to see Neville in his work uniform. "So it's true? You're back on duty?"

"Trying to be. Maybe we can hurry this along? I'm working a case."

"Is it true?" the man repeated instead of signing Neville in. "You bought a wolf girl, a little one?"

Already in a foul mood at having to see someone who experimented maliciously on him, Neville found himself reaching over the desk and grabbing the young man by his shirt collar. Pulling him across the desk with a rough jerk. "I became a guardian to an orphan who had nowhere to go, not that it's any of your goddamned business, now sign me in before I break your neck."

Terrified, the guard did as Neville asked. Finally. But he knew he'd made a mistake even as the man quickly scribbled down his name and stood to show him down the hall that led to the stairs. He should not be losing his temper like that. He had tried to prepare himself for some idiot to mention Posy, but he never thought it would be so blatant and come from the first person he ran into besides his close friends.

Neville simply wasn't designed to be rational when it came to anyone named Parkinson.

Pansy was in his skin, his dreams.

Posy, his heart and house.

And Pearl, the woman who caused him more pain than he ever thought possible, might be alive and well, walking around torturing whoever she felt like torturing. The mere thought of her had taken up a massive space in his head, until he couldn't think clearly, until he expected to turn around and see her there, holding a piece of Glim with a slick grin on her face.

It was enough that he couldn't sleep. If she was still out there, Posy and Pansy both were in danger.

If only he could find Pansy.

From the moment he left St. Mungo's months ago, he'd sent feelers out, keeping an eye out at all her usual haunts. Looking for any hint of her in Italy, in France. Across the USA. Moscow, Tokyo, Shanghai. Even Spain. All the places he knew of where she'd traveled in her life. Places she might pick up jobs as a Spellthief.

He was convinced she ran away, not able to deal with their relationship. She loved Theo, and it had gotten the man killed.

She loved him too, and left him to deal with Pearl on her own, only Neville ended up being horrendously tortured anyways.

Guilt. That's what she was feeling, Neville just knew it. Their case had taken her far out of her comfort zone and gotten a lot of people hurt. Even through the god awful pain of the Glimmer in his system, igniting the blood and leaving his veins burning, he remembered hearing the lie in her voice.

 _I never loved you…. I'll kill you right here…._

Was it lying if she knew he could tell apart those lies of hers? Her words at the Manor could have cut glass, they were that sharp. And yet he knew she meant the opposite.

And she couldn't handle it.

After knocking Neville out, she managed to get Posy, him, and Marcus Barton to safety, all while chained up and disarmed. Whatever she had to do to escape after that, it had her feeling guilty. All his senses told him so.

Why else would he be dreaming of her so much, his scar burning with icy fire?

It was becoming a near nightly occurrence, hearing Pansy's voice in his dreams, feeling her fingers on his skin. Yet he hadn't a single clue to where she'd gone. No one had spotted her, no hint of a job that matched her usual, nothing.

And he was starting to get pissed off. He had to get to her before Pearl did. And at that moment in time, he'd done all he could.

In the meantime, he had to find out who else would be interested in the experimental potions that turned him from an average guy to a superhuman. And make sure no one else went what he went through. He had to give it to Bobbi, she'd found the _one_ thing that would get him to take the badge back.

He stopped at the last cell on floor five, gripping the bar as he looked in on the man inside. Dillon Torres, rightfully jailed for illegally experimenting on Muggles, witches, and wizards.

And an Auror named Neville Longbottom.

He hadn't seen Torres since he locked him in this cell, almost a year ago. He wouldn't ever see Torres again.

Because the man was dead.

oOo

Sunday dinner at the O'Donnells, and Posy fit right in. She got along with everyone, but none better than Ron Weasley. Neville watched from the back porch as Ron chased her around, Hermione and baby Rosie sitting next to him. A perfect summer night on the back porch, surrounded by friends, and yet Neville felt as if something were missing.

"It's like I'm watching my future," Hermione said softly, a tired smile on her face. "We both knew we wanted kids, but I never thought… I never expected him to be so perfect at being a dad."

Neville looked over and caught the small tears in her eyes, her arms rocking the baby as she spoke. Happy for his friends, sure, but he couldn't help but think he'd never have what they had. He'd never have a wife, looking at him the way Hermione looked at Ron.

He couldn't even hold an egg anymore. His strength returning with such ferocity, far more potent than ever before.

Touch was simply out of the question for him. His only exception being Posy, when she demanded a hug before bed each night. He made sure to stay absolutely still when that happened. Wolf or not, he refused to cause her even a moment of pain. They'd lived together for almost six months. And in that time he'd fallen hard.

He understood it was different than a normal parent/child relationship. Posy wasn't his kid, but she was his to protect. Fierce, smart, caring, and perhaps one of the strongest girls he'd ever known. She kept him going, kept him sane when the pain got too much by giving him some of that signature Parkinson sass.

He made sure she was safe, had plenty of food, and was never ever alone. Be it with the Malfoy's, who adored her, or any one of his friends, who would kill to protect her. Even Bobbi, much as she disliked Posy's sister.

"Still feeling some of those pregnancy hormones?" Susan slid into the chair next to Hermione and promptly stole the baby away. Neville noticed she'd looked different lately. She always wore her hair up, but now her cherry-red hair fell down her back in a soft wave.

And she wore make up.

"Just a touch, here and there. Mostly when I need sleep," she laughed. "Which is always!" Hermione continued to grin, leaning back in her chair. She looked out to Ron as he chased Posy through the back yard, the both of them laughing. "How was your _date?_ "

"Date?" Neville felt his eyebrows rise, watching Ginny and Harry arrive through the back gate. "You don't date."

In fact, he couldn't recall a single moment where Susan Bones had talked romantically with a man. "It wasn't a date," she hissed at Hermione. "We were talking money, for the hospital."

"Who? You went on a date with who?" Neville asked just as Ginny stole baby Rosie for herself.

"Hey all," Harry set multiple bottles of drink on the table. Wine, water, and what looked like fizzy cream soda.

Bobbi came around, setting two giant plates of grilled chicken on the table. "He picked you up, he took you to dinner, he brought you back, you two kiss-"

Susan jumped up and slapped a hand over Bobbi's mouth. "Bobs, you swore you wouldn't say anything."

"Say anything about _who?_ "

"And I heard them fighting again, in her office, earlier today," Connor added, sliding into the chair next to his wife. He added a variety of vegetables to go with the chicken.

Susan didn't retake her chair, instead coming over to sit next to Neville. "We _weren't_ fighting," she turned towards him and grabbed his hands. "I went to dinner with Malfoy-"

" _Malfoy?_ As in Draco?"

"No, his mother," she snapped back with heavy sarcasm. Clearly, her and Posy had been spending a hearty amount of time together. "Yes, Draco. It was not a date. He's considering donating some money to St. Mungo's, enough that I could actually hire some staff. And then, I could maybe have a day off here or there, spend more time with you losers who have nothing better to do than gossip like fourteen year olds."

"Oooh, we've struck a nerve, folks," Bobbi said, taking her turn with Rosie. "Hello sweet baby."

"Did you say Malfoy?" Posy ran up the hill and stopped at the table, began picking at the veggies. "What about Draco?"

"Susie's got a crush on him," Ron laughed, running up behind her.

"I _do not!_ Good lord, he's just going to donate some money to the hospital!"

Posy jumped up and down with excitement, "Susie, you'd be perfect for him! He needs someone grounded to help him stabilize, and he can fund your hospital for _ever_. He's loaded!"

She acted so young, yet said things like that. Neville felt his lips tugging upwards, but his eyes wandered around the table taking in everyone as they laughed and settled in together. Drinking and putting food on each other's plates. Posy wedged herself between Harry and Ron, giving them both a super sweet smile. In no time, she had them both putting food on her plate even though she was quite capable of doing so herself. Harry had brought the cream soda specifically for her.

Susan leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder, whispering in his ear. "You look better, Nev."

He met her tawny colored eyes and dimpled smile, feeling beyond grateful for his best friend. She'd always been there for him and now, despite her busy work schedule, managed to be there for Posy too. "I'm better," he admitted.

"I just have to say that the recording from floor five at Azkaban will be in at the office tomorrow, and now I'm declaring friendtime, so no more work talk," Bobbi gave Nev a pointed look before she signaled everyone to dig in.

"Nev," Hermione pulled on his other side. "Did you want to hold the baby?"

He shook his head immediately. "No, sorry." But he did lean in and give Rosie a bit of a smile. Her big brown eyes looked just like her mother's, a smattering of dark freckles across her chubby cheeks.

Adorable.

And enough to make him wonder what a child between him and Pansy would look like.

Neville parked his four door car in the new driveway he added to his house over the last month, his stomach almost uncomfortably full and Posy halfway asleep in the seat next to him. "Nice steering, Captain," she mumbled sleepily. "Only hit the curb once this time."

"You laugh, but I'll be the one teaching you how to drive one day," Neville turned the car off with the push of a button and reached back to grab the leftovers Bobbi sent him home with.

They stayed far later than he intended, but he didn't mind. It seemed things were back to normal. As if his life had found routine again after months of confusion and chaos.

"By the time I can drive, I'll probably need to give _you_ lessons," she laughed at her own joke and climbed out of the car, burping obnoxiously. "I drank too much cream soda."

"Serves you right for suckering Harry into bringing a whole jug of the stuff," he followed her drowsy walk towards the front door.

"I can't help it, I'm starving _all the time_."

"You're a growing wolf, eat as much as you'd like. But maybe lay off the soda. Hermione said that stuff is bad for your teeth."

"If you say so," they rounded the corner and he cursed himself internally for forgetting to leave the porch light on. Again. He always did that. It was the little things like that that always made him feel like he was mucking up this whole guardian gig. What kind of parent forgot to leave the light on? How hard was it to flip a switch?

But Posy stopped dead in her tracks, Neville sensing her immediate fear. He reached out and grabbed the back of her shirt. "What's wrong?"

"Nev, there's a body on the porch."

He couldn't see a thing in the dark, but he grabbed onto Posy and lifted her over his shoulder without hesitation. Running back to the car. He sat her down on the hood and pulled out his cell phone just as she pulled out a small knife. "Do you sense anyone else nearby?"

She shook her head.

"Call Bobbi, and yell if you need me," he told her, his phone already dialing Bobbi when he put the device in Posy's outstretched hands.

From his pocket he pulled out his wand and felt cool, _eager_ magic flare to life from _The Dolce Mela_ , soundlessly lighting his wand as he cautiously retraced the stone steps towards his front door. Finally able to see, he made out the huge corpse on his doorstep. He tried not to be relieved, the body far too big to be Pansy's.

Neville stepped up and knelt down, pointing his wand at the head of the body.

Dried blood and cut up, bruised skin disfigured his swollen face. But Neville recognized that long, thick beard. "Hal."


	24. Chapter 24

whistling innocently* Oh yeah thanks for the reviews and messages! If you like the fic, please let me know! :)

 **Part II**

 **Chapter Twenty Four**

(An ode to Hal, and stolen kisses)

The thing around the neck made it hard to think straight. Made words difficult to understand. But orders were orders. To be obeyed. To be followed.

 _Take care of him._

It could mean so many things.

oOo

"Happy Birthday, Pansy," Tony said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. The first time he tried to do that, she flipped him over her shoulder just as he taught her to do. Then pressed her dagger into his neck threateningly.

He laughed, congratulated her on her form, and hopped up without a worry. Tony knew she wouldn't hurt him. He gave her back control for the first time since… since...

 _Don't_ _think about it._

"Thanks, Tony," she growled at the reminder, but accepted the small gift box he placed in her hands, deftly hiding the letter she crumbled into a small ball. They just got done going a full round, not having seen each other in several months. They'd gone their separate ways when it became clear he had nothing else to teach her.

But they always met again, as friends.

Rome had taken her in with open arms, and taught her more than she ever thought she'd learn. Every night spent in the ring had felt like a slow crawl, grasping for control she desperately needed.

"You'll have to teach me that last move you did."

Freshly showered, he sat in the opposite chair from her, strikingly handsome and smelling of soap. Pansy considered Tony _Blessed_ with a capital B. His half-Italian half-Chinese mother and Puerto Rican father had given him a combination of features that could pass as anything from Hispanic to Mediterranean to demi-god status.

Woman just _fawned_ over those rich brown eyes and smoother than silk smiles he liked to dish out.

Pansy rolled her eyes at them. They didn't understand the true attraction that was Antonio Ortiz. He taught self defense and made it his life's mission to wipe out any man who dared use their strength to beat a helpless woman or child.

"You're too bulky to pull it off," she smirked, tugging down the sleeves of her baggy sweatshirt. But Tony was like her, deep down. They both wanted to fight.

"So? I can still teach the method to others," he smirked right back.

"As long as they're fast enough," she began opening her present, the box wrapped in recycled newspaper. Outside she heard a siren whirling past, the noise bustling and familiar. She'd always liked coming to his hometown, which wasn't a town at all. "You shouldn't have gotten me anything."

"Deal," he shrugged. He meant deal _with it_ , but Tony always shortened his sentences, never wasting time on more words than necessary. "If it bothers you don't visit on your birthday."

"Maybe I lied about my real birthday, so I could get an extra present."

"Not surprised." But he waited expectantly anyways, not giving in to her need to banter.

She pushed the short strands of her dark hair out of her face and finally opened the present.

Inside the box sat a small blade, maybe the total length of her forefinger to thumb. The hilt had been cast in silver, with raised designs that made small flowers. Forget-me-nots or some other dumb flower she didn't care about. It seemed overly pretty for her tastes. Strangely feminine for a weapon.

"Uh - well it's pretty," she said examining the designs up close. At least the balance felt right. Tony would never give her a weapon that wasn't worth using. "The last thing they'll see is a shiny flower right before I take out their eyes."

"Have I ever told you you're a bit unhinged?" Tony shrugged. "Glad you like it.

"A blade is a blade," she copied his shrug, but secretly liked the designs.

"What was that?"

He meant the letter. She pulled out the crumbled parchment and rolled it over her palm, putting away her new blade. "A letter, from my father. My mother is expecting," the words tasted funny in her mouth. Strange to celebrate her 21st year after finding out her mother was pregnant. She would have thought her Papa was too old, much older than her mother, but he seemed excited nonetheless.

The Healer's were expecting another girl.

Somehow, Pansy wasn't surprised. She wasn't what Pearl wanted anyways. Maybe her mother decided to start a new family. After all, she'd been in Italy learning to be an assassin. Becoming a shadow, one that could move silently and unseen. Not exactly the picturesque daughter.

"Wow," Tony seemed unimpressed. "Excited?"

"No," Pansy laughed and decided to hop up. They should go out. _Really_ celebrate. "Why would I be? It's not like I'll ever spend time with the baby. What would we have in common? Let's go out dancing. That club we went to last time. Is it still around?"

Tony stood with her and cracked his knuckles.. "Yeah, but if the cops get called on you again, I'm not sticking around this time. Is that what you're going to wear?"

She still wasn't comfortable showing her scars. People asked about scars, wanting to know the story behind each mark. That was the thing about pain, people wanted to relate to it. Not understand. And she didn't want anyone in her business.

Three hard years spent training to gain even an ounce of confidence, a smidgen of control. She wanted to let loose on this rare vacation, and cause a little trouble. Theo was half a world away, ignoring her, bitter and resenting her.

She might have been bitter and resenting him right back. She had no strings. No obligations.

And for the first time, finally, she felt enough courage in herself to maybe try something other than fighting. She removed her sweatshirt, and revealed the tight, three-quarter sleeved black shirt that went just fine with her leather pants.

"Yeah, that'll do."

She danced with Tony all night under the strobe lights of a smoke filled club. The kind of place that attracted all types. Until some leggy blonde walked by and caught Tony's eye. Still dancing, Pansy wrapped her arms around his neck. "Go for it," she yelled over the music. "She's hotter than fire."

"And leave my date all alone?" he shook his head. "It's your birthday."

"I'm not your date," she called back. "And, I don't need you to take care of me."

"That's for damn sure," Tony spun her out, releasing her, and she closed her eyes. Letting the music take over. Men closed in around her, but she didn't feel frightened or trapped by their looming presence.

 _I can handle them._

But none of these pretty men with their slicked back hair and regular clothing were doing it for her and when the song ended, she sauntered over to the bar and squeezed her tiny self in between two giants.

The bartender ignored her, rudely. His attention solely on two bimbos with barely a strip of clothing for a top between them. She rolled her eyes, sticking her tongue out.

"Didn't your mom ever tell you not to stick your tongue out unless you plan to use it?" one of the giants asked her. His voice made the little hairs on the back of her neck curl.

She lifted her head to look at him, meeting his dark gaze, thinking she might be letting a little too loose if he tried to make a move on her. He had a thick, bristly beard and tattoos covering every inch of skin she could see. But killer's eyes. "I am going to use it, biker dude."

"Is that right?" his beard twitched.

"Yes. I'm going to use it to tell the bartender to go fuck himself if he doesn't take my drink order." Show no fear, that was her motto. Because she knew first hand that bigger men looked at her and saw someone small and easy to control, someone they could mess with. Fear only incited them.

"Well now, I could think of a far better use for that tongue than that," Biker Dude said lewdly.

She rolled her eyes, but giant number two leaned in before she could tell giant number one to shove it. "Shut up, Joe," he drawled in a rough voice.

Then he put two inked fingers in his mouth and whistled. _Loud._

The entire bar turned to look in their direction. Including the bartender. "Get the girly here a drink, would ya?"

Pansy looked him up and down, taking in his leathers and tattoos. _Yummy._ He tipped the bartender well after she got her drink and said, "Name's Hal. Don't bother tellin' me yours, I can spot trouble a mile away."

Then he offered her a cigarette.

oOo

"He's alive," Susan told him an hour later, sliding _The Dolce Mela_ back into his jacket pocket, disguising the movement with a hug.

"What happened to him?" Neville asked, without moving his arms. She only did it to hide the diamond from the other occupants of the room. Posy knew about the diamond, but Malfoy didn't. Bobbi didn't.

Susan had agreed with him when he suggested to keep the diamond a secret, even from their friends. He trusted them explicitly, but this wasn't his secret to share. He only told Susan so she could use it in dire situations.

Like this one.

"Beaten with something blunt, like a club maybe. He's suffered severe internal damage, several broken bones, and a few cuts with something sharp. Knife, easy. The real problem is with his head," she paused, looking between him and Posy.

"It's fine, Susie."

"He slipped into a coma. He could wake up on his own, he might not."

He blew out a breath, mostly worried and only slightly relieved to hear Susan's words. He thought Hal had been _dead_. A corpse on his porch. Only to realize the slight wheezing sound hadn't been the wind, but Hal trying to breathe. He didn't think he'd ever Apparated so fast in his life, bursting into Susan's office carrying a man who weighed twice as much with an extra foot of height than Neville did.

"Thanks, Susie," he leaned in and pressed a kiss into her cheek. As gently as he could. Hal was a good friend of his. And when Posy realized who the body belonged to, she'd nearly lost it, screaming ' _Hally!'_ at the top of her lungs.

He didn't think he would soon forget the sound of it.

"I need to stay with him for now," Susie reached out for Posy. Comforting her.

"Let's go back to Malfoy Manor," Draco said before Posy could cry again. Neville didn't miss the lipstick stains on the man's face.

"Good idea," he turned to Posy. "You cool to stay there tonight? I'll bring you some of your things. I need the house to be empty for a bit so I can look for any clues, find out who left Hal there."

She solemnly nodded, reaching out to take Draco's hand. "I understand. C'mon then."

There was a tense moment as the man looked from Posy to Susan, clearly wanting to say something more before giving up, turning, and taking Posy from the office.

"Don't say a word," Susan held up a finger at him. "I have to show you something. I know you don't like keeping things from her, but I thought it better she didn't see this."

He and Bobbi followed her into the opposite room, where Hal lay on a bed. Hooked up to beeping monitors and looking oddly like a crushed banana. His face had been beaten in so badly, Neville didn't understand how the man could possibly be alive.

Or what he could've done to deserve such violence.

Susan lifted Hal's hospital shirt, gently pulling up the edge of a large bandage, showing Neville an equally bruised and beaten torso. But there, across his chest just over the man's heart, were words written into the skin.

"Hell," Neville immediately thought of Theodore Nott. Of how Pearl carved words into the man until he bled to death.

 _gat tina._

"These are the only words I found," Susan told him, gently covering the harsh wounds over again.

"What does that mean?" he asked out loud, unable to understand. "gat tina?"

"Got Tina? Get?" Bobbi ventured. "Who's Tina?"

"Was there a Fawley named Tina?" he took his pad from his back pocket and wrote the words down. His pad was filling up rapidly after only two days back on the job. More and more questions with no answers.

"Tina, Tina," Bobbi shook her head. "I don't know any Tina."

"No, me either." Susan pulled Hal's shirt down with gentle fingers. "You must though."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because he was left on your doorstep," Susan reminded him softly.

He had to look at his family trees, convinced of the connection. After all, Hal was a wolf. Convenient then… that he had a wolf he could ask.

"I know what you're thinking," she continued. "Do you really want to drag Posy back into this mess?"

"I'm not taking her out on a case with me, Susie, she's a wolf. She _knows_ wolves. What do you think we talk about when we're at home?"

One set of narrowly pointed tawny colored eyes in his direction was all it took for Neville to realize he should have kept his mouth shut. Susan folded her arms and said, "I don't know, Nev, maybe normal girl stuff? She's a child."

"She's not a normal girl, she's not _just_ a child, and if I ignore that, and I try to protect her from all this, she's just going to bail on me."

"And if she wonders how you thought to ask?" Bobbi crossed her arms and Neville realized it was two on one. He needed more guy friends.

"Let me worry about that." Of course he didn't want Posy involved, but that didn't change her parentage or the promises he made.

"She's just so young, Nev," Susan argued. "She's been through so much, I think it would be better to keep her out of this situation, away from harm."

"I gotta agree, Nev," Bobbi added in soft tones. "It's easy to forget, with her upbringing and everything that happened, but she's just a little girl Nev. Don't bring her into this."

There was nothing to say to that.

He went back to his house with Bobbi, and took a long look around, combing through the denser parts of his yard with a flashlight. Going round and round in circles until he reached his porch.

Whoever left Hal on his porch meant to leave a message, and a deadly one at that, Neville just didn't understand it. Which put him on edge about the whole thing. When Pearl mutilated Nott, the message could not have been clearer. Knowing had been far scarier, the big bad was lurking and watching their every move.

But this, this just left him questioning what the motive could be.

He blew out another frustrated breath. "No footprints, no trash, nothing's been disturbed."

"I don't see anything, either," Bobbi said. "Has anything been moved?"

"No," he looked around. The porch light was on, finally. All his unused pots of dirt sat untouched, lining his porch. Waiting to be planted. If he ever got around to it. His Uncle Algie's old rocker sat in the corner, collecting dirt and dust.

He double checked to be sure. "Nothing. I haven't seen Hal since the Club Dread shooting."

"That long?"

"All this talk about tagging wolves has them feeling not so hot towards us Ministry workers, he was trying to lay low, bide some time."

"We're separate from the Ministry," Bobbi reminded him.

"Yeah, for the first time in how many centuries? We're all the same to them."

"I need to get back home," Bobbi said after another search.

"I know a bar Hal likes to hang around."

"Maybe you want to take some back up?" Bobbi suggested, holding up both hands. "Just a suggestion."

"No, probably better I go at this alone for now. But I'll call Harry if I need backup."

Bobbi's eyes grew wide. "Wow, you actually sounded reasonable there for a second."

"I'm a reasonable guy," he deadpanned. But it felt wrong to be joking while standing on the spot Hal had been dumped, half dead and beaten.

The message on his chest made him think Pearl had something to do with it.

After all, she did the same to Nott. The only difference between them was Hal had taken a pretty severe beating before being carved into. Maybe she had help this time. It had been seven months since she'd last been spotted, and only God knew what she'd been doing in that time.

Who she recruited to continue her quest for power.

Glim was out. Gone. Without magic in the world, there was nothing to draw on to start the process of making it into a drug. Which was great news. Except it left Neville without a place to look and a lot of theorists floundering to figure out why magic had started to falter in the first place.

"Susie's got him," Bobbi patted his shoulder in a comforting manner, distracting him from his thoughts. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," and he went inside to pack a bag for Posy.

oOo

The first time he met Hal had been in this bar, the kind of hole in the wall place you had to crawl through a hole to get to. It didn't even have a name, only a dirty sign above the door that said 'Pub'.

A dark, mostly dirty room with a long wooden bar top along one wall. He'd gone there with his old partner, looking for a shady potions dealer. The bartender, Rufus, had been the epitome of unfriendly and useless information until Hal stepped in and vouched for him.

It began a long history of traded favors.

And somewhere along the way, they became friends. Neville recognized Hal's true nature right off the bat. The man had been a wolf since his teen years, traveling from pack to pack until he ended up in the city. To take care of his elderly grandmother.

Most people took one look at him and turned the other way, but Neville knew Hal had good intentions. It made for an easy friendship. One he wasn't keen on losing.

Even though he hid his badge, that same bartender recognized him right away. "Hal's not here."

Two guys sat in the corner, hunched over speaking in hushed voices. "When's the last time you saw him?" Neville pulled out his notepad.

"Dunno," Rufus shrugged. "How thirsty are ya feelin'?"

Neville reached into his pocket, pulled out a few gold pieces. "Save it," he stopped Rufus from pouring a beer from the tap. "Just want to know what you know about Hal."

"Saw him a few weeks ago, actually. With Neva," Rufus took the gold with greedy fingers. "He said he might be in a bit of trouble, bought drinks for all the lads, and I haven't seen him since."

"Neva? Fawley?"

"The one and only," Rufus gave a leery smirk.

"Did either of them mention where they were going? What they were doing?"

"No, nothin' like that," Rufus shrugged.

But Neville had another piece of gold ready to slide across the counter. "You're _sure_ you don't remember anything else?"

"Actually, _now_ that I think about it, I remember Hal talkin' about a big job. Ms. Fawley saying she was going to do in the bitch that killed her lover. But they left right after."

"The bitch that killed her lover?" Neville repeated. Then burst into laughter. It felt strange, he couldn't remember the last time he last time he laughed so hard. The kind of laugh that came from the bottom of his belly, one he couldn't stop.

"That mean something to you?" Rufus stepped back, suddenly unsure.

"Yeah," he couldn't stop. "Yeah, it means something."

It meant Hal had gone after Pansy.

oOo

After leaving the bar he sent a message to Marcus Barton, a wolf who owed him. One who owed his life to Posy. He needed any information of Neva Fawley. Because the wolf families had just about fallen off the radar after magic left the world.

Even wolf violence had gone down, something Neville didn't realize until he came back to the job. It made sense, with the lack of Glim going around.

He took Posy her overnight bag, happy to see she'd fallen asleep sometime after leaving St. Mungo's. He worried about that bleak expression on her face when she walked away with Malfoy before. She was tougher than nails, his little wolf. But she still hurt from Theo's loss. Still hurt from Pansy's disappearance.

Exactly how much more could she take? He didn't want to find out. He didn't want to think about Hal not making it, and what it might do to Posy, who apparently cared as deeply for the wolf as Pansy had. Did? _Still does_ , he thought to himself.

He sat in the corner chair, the one that looked out over the expansive grounds at Malfoy Manor. Looking at the half moon in the sky with anticipation.

His life had changed so much.

Revolving around that moon. Around Posy. Around the ache in his shoulder, and the nightmares that came every night. He wasn't fool enough to think it had anything to do with his chaotic feelings for the spellthief that left her mark on him.

He survived a war, knew what happened to the mind afterwards. Something in him was trying to deal with what Pearl had done and it latched onto the easiest target to vent the pressure.

So now, he waited.

"It's horrible, isn't it?" Malfoy said to him from the desk of his dark study. He had a glass full of dark amber liquid sitting on that desk. But it seemed untouched, except for the slow circle of Malfoy's finger around the rim.

"What's horrible?"

"That worrisome feeling when you don't want someone you love to get hurt. Horrible."

Yeah, caring about people was a _real_ hardship, Neville wanted to scoff. He didn't.

But he wanted to.

He hadn't met a more private person than Draco Malfoy. But occasionally, during their little 'meetings' to discuss the ongoings of all things Parkinson, Neville would catch a small glimpse of the man behind the mask of grief. Someone who had a hard time expressing emotion. What a shocker.

But he wondered if Susan saw the same.

"Drinking again, Malfoy?" he couldn't help but ask.

"No," he answered neutrally.

"So that whiskey is there because?"

"It's here for the same reason Theo kept Glim in his desk drawer."

"Easy access?"

"Easy access makes me try harder," he responded dryly, standing up to walk around his desk. "Didn't we agree being affable with each other wasn't going to work?"

"I think she's still in the country," Neville said instead of responding, because their attempts to find friendship, even with common ground in Posy, had fallen flat several times over the past half year.

Malfoy's face turned thoughtful, his hands behind his back as he paced back and forth. He always got this pinched look on his pale face while he was thinking. "It would certainly explain why we haven't found her. We haven't been looking in Britain because..."

"We assumed she ran," Neville completed for him then explained about the dead body not matching Posy's DNA. "Because we thought Pearl was dead. If Pearl lived, it isn't exactly a huge jump to assume she _took_ Pansy."

Then he wanted to hurl.

Only to himself could he admit how terrifying Pearl was, all five feet of her. A 50 year old little witch who looked like she never experienced a hard day in her life. She had him for less than six hours. And in that time he came closer to death than ever before, experienced pain beyond his imagination. Pain that made him want to die rather than continue to bare it, much to his complete shame.

If she had Pansy, she had Pansy for almost ten months.

"Tomorrow I have a meeting with a housekeeper named Agatha Barnes," Malfoy told him. "She worked at Parkinson Manor for six years, up until the year Posy was born. I hear she's a chatty type."

"I never thought about what we would do if we found Posy's dad," Neville admitted, instead of giving in to the urge to throw up.

"Of course you didn't," Malfoy retook his seat at his desk. "I'm the brains in this operation. Leave the thinking to me."

"Posy's the brawn," Neville stood up, and finally looked away from the window. "I might go ahead and take her home tonight."

"I always warned Theo and Pansy against treating her like a child," Malfoy said after a long moment of silence, the two of them taking in the quiet of the night, and thinking about the unknown man who contributed to birth the one person on earth who could get Neville Longbottom to work with Draco Malfoy on a regular basis. "I'm glad that you don't make the same mistake."

"It's a _pain_ ," Neville told him. "I want to coddle her and make sure nothing ever hurts her."

"She had the same effect on Theodore, and _he_ gave in. Sometimes I thought he loved her more than Pansy."

He blew out a harsh breath. Theo loved Posy more than Pansy did or more than he loved Pansy? Could their relationship get any more complicated?

Frustrated, as was his usual. He wondered if he would ever outgrow the shadow that Theodore Nott left behind. He was so much more than some Glim addict, and Neville didn't think he would ever unearth every single secret the information dealer had.

"I'll tell her about Barnes tomorrow. Let me know how the meeting goes. And the property?"

The barren ground where Parkinson Manor once stood, finally cleared of all ash and debris, the basement filled in with cement. As per Posy's request.

The house, she had told Neville, had no meaning to her or Pansy. Tear it down, she told him in a stern voice he hadn't recognized, so she could rebuild it one day.

"The ward still stands, tripling the value of the land. If Posy ever finds herself in financial trouble-"

"She won't," Neville channeled that stern voice.

"I believe I used the word _if_ ," Malfoy drawled. "She'll be set for life. All the rest of Pearl's assets have been liquidated and the gold transferred to Posy's personal vault. Only she has the key."

The one good thing to come out of Pearl faking her own death.

"You know who she gave the key to for safe keeping?" Neville felt a small smile rise up as he looked at Malfoy.

Who turned visibly green. "Don't tell me…"

"Ron," Neville chuckled. "She just _adores_ him."

"It's tall men," Malfoy said with a snap, coming to a realization. "Son of a… She loves tall men. Theo was almost as tall as Weasley is. Typical _woman_."

"Uh, we're tall," Neville argued, and tried not to laugh. God help him the day Malfoy actually makes him laugh.

"Not as tall as those idiots," he shook his head.

Then Neville had a thought. "Do you think he knew who Posy's father is? Nott?"

"If he did, he never said anything to us about it," Malfoy looked up. "His laptop, does O'Donnell still have it in her possession?"

That was an excellent question.

oOo

Neville woke up to his phone chiming. A message from Marcus.

 _I'm willing to share information but can't meet_.

"And why the hell not, Barton?" he read his own message out loud, rubbing the scar on his shoulder as he did.

 _Neva is dead, I thought you of all people would know._

He had no idea what to make of that. Why him? Why him of all people?

Ping. Ping. Ping.

 _I don't have time for this right now._

 _I'll message you when I find a safe place to meet._

 _Don't contact me again._

"Fucking wolves," he quickly scrolled to his other message. From Susan.

 _Stable but not awake yet. Will message you if that changes. xx_

And an earlier one from Bobbi.

 _Got the recording. Get to work, LB._

He rolled out of bed and once on his feet, realized Posy was standing at the foot of his bed, in her bunny decorated bathrobe. Arms crossed.

"Bloody fucking hell, what are you doing there, Po?"

He didn't want to keep training her if she was already becoming this stealthy, she could sneak up on him with little effort. _Scaring_ the crap out of him. It took nothing to visualize how far she could develop the skill.

Pansy would literally become a shadow, disappearing from plain sight almost.

Then the spiral happened. The one that occurred whenever he thought of the path Pansy had taken, and the reasons behind it, and compared it to Posy. Different things drove them, and if he wasn't careful, his little wolf could end up with a lot of the same problems as Pansy.

"You were screaming in your sleep again, do you know that?" she said, worried. And a little more than angry. "You know what you were screaming?"

"For fuck's sake-"

"No, you were screaming for help, Neville! Screaming for help!" she stomped across the room, roughly pulling the top drawer of his dresser, and started pulling out his undershirts.

"Boundaries, Posy! Get out of my room!"

"Where is it?!" she started in on the second drawer before he realized she wasn't just trying to make a mess of his room, but had an actual purpose.

"POSY. GET. OUT."

"You take care of me," she slammed the drawer and dashed out of his way when he went forward to grab her. A folded picture in her hands. "I take care of you, remember? So neither of us will be alone anymore. Look at her. Just _look._ "

She held up the picture of Pansy he stole from Nott's place. The one taken in front of her house, long hair wild, in her leathers, the Pansy in the photograph flirting and dancing around suggestively. "She broke your heart when she left, didn't she? Just like she did to mine. But you have to face the facts. She left us. Don't let her into your dreams."

"Damn it, Po," he snatched the picture away and stuffed it back into his drawer, out of sight. "Your sister isn't haunting my dreams. Your _mother_ is."

That stopped her. "Huh?"

"Posy, get out of my room," he stood firm. Boundaries between them were far too important to be ignored. "We talked about privacy."

"Privacy doesn't mean squat when it sounds as if you're being… tor...tured…." Posy turned visibly white as she said the words, her little form going still. "Right…"

She darted from the room, a little blur of blonde hair and purple bathrobe.

 _Damn,_ he shut off his phone, happy for the silence. Then walked across the hall, took position against the door frame.

"It's not your fault," he told her. Though she kept her back to him, practically hiding in her closet.

"Yes it is," she used the closet door to hide her face. "I knew how to escape that cell from day one, but I never tried to leave the grounds. I was too afraid. I should have, then none of us would've been there. Pansy could be here with us right now."

"You take care of me, so I can take care of you," he said slowly, repeating Posy's words back to her. "Don't apologize and don't feel bad for things that you can't change, Po. I would have been in that warehouse no matter what. Pearl would have gotten me. No matter what."

He thought about what Draco said to him. And what the girls had said. Deep down, he didn't want Posy anywhere near his cases. Put in a situation where she might come in contact with her mother, or any harm for that matter. Bobbi and Susan had valid points when they said Posy was still young. Too young.

But his gut said putting her in the dark would only hurt in the long run, and would only make her distrust him when she found out the truth.

Lies _always_ had a way of making themselves known. He trusted that more than anything else in the world. And his gut had gotten him out of tough situations more times than he could count.

"I'll be downstairs, making breakfast," he told her. Mostly to give her time to work things out on her own. She wasn't often pensive like this, but after months living together he wasn't surprised to find Posy dealt with insecurities the same way Pansy did. Burying them and powering through it until it exploded out when he least expected, usually after a charged emotional moment.

But food was a safe bet, and he never allowed himself to think much about that. As cruel as Pearl could be, he tried to imagine she fed her youngest daughter. He tried.

He was setting warmed up sausages and hash browns on the kitchen table when she finally appeared, dressed for the day and carrying her small purple book bag, the one she'd sewn little blue forget-me-nots into. Without a word, she helped set the table and poured them both a tall glass of grapefruit juice.

"How's Hally?" she asked when she finally sat down and started eating.

"According to Susie, stable. Not awake," he rubbed his neck after taking his own seat, Susan and Bobbi's voices doing circles in his head. "Do you know of anyone, any wolf, named Tina?"

"Yes," she said between bites. "Tiny Tina used to hang out with Sarah and Katherine sometimes. I dunno why they called her Tiny. She wasn't. Tiny, I mean. I don't think she was a wolf either."

He took out his notepad, pushing his plate away. "Tiny Tina, you don't remember a last name do you?"

"No," she shook her head, mouth full of potatoes. "I was really little when she came to Sarah's house, I only remember because she had a big brown spot under her eye."

"Left or right?"

"Uhmm…" she winced.

"You need to start noticing more, Posy. Pay attention to everything around you, even the little details that don't seem important. Like… What color are my shoes?"

"That's easy," she rolled her eyes. "You only own the one pair of ugly brown shoes."

He felt his chest moving before he realized he was laughing.

"Seriously, Nev? My corny werewolf jokes don't even get a smile out of you, but insults make you laugh? You're weird."

"Yeah," he was weird. But she sounded like her sister just then, and Pansy managed to get him to laugh a lot.

"Maybe I'm not perceptive and all Aurory like you are, but your phone has been going off all morning and now you're looking for someone named Tina, so I think that has something to do with Hal and I want to go with you," she went on in that firm but rambly tone she specialized in.

"You wanna go with me? What like while I investigate Hal's case? Are you trying to get Bobbi mad at me?"

"No," another eye roll. "I want to help Hal. I'm not weak, I'm not useless, some helpless kitten. I'm a _wolf._ I'm a -"

"Kitten?" he dropped his pen.

"Do you have ears?" Posy snapped angrily. "I just said I'm not-"

"No, no you're not. I know who put Hal on the porch."


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty Five**

(Double chocolate chunk or bust)

"Happy Birthday, Pansy," Tory set a small present down in front of her, a little red box, with a cream colored ribbon wrapped into a neat, perfect bow on top. "This is from me. Draco asked if I would say it's from the both of us, but _he_ didn't have anything to do with the gift so I lied and said I would."

"Ha," Pansy laughed, feeling at ease for the first time in months. But Tory often had that effect on her. In fact, Pansy credited the younger witch for teaching a valuable lesson Pansy had never forgotten.

Manipulation was necessary in life, to ensure your family and friends were taken care of. Of course, such things were easier said than done. Astoria had her own problems with family, but when it came to their friendship, Pansy knew the witch only had good intentions towards her and towards Posy. It was true while they were in school, and it was even more so now that Tory and Draco had started seeing each other.

She swung her head around to look at her old friend, who stood on the other side of the expansive porch with Theo by the sidebar. They were opening an expensive bottle of scotch, acting like they knew difference between it and the cheaper stuff she preferred.

The view from her hilltop villa stretched for miles in front of them. A rolling field of sunflowers, red tiled roofs in the distance, the mountains behind them. The sun setting to the west.

Posy, just old enough to wobble around on her stubby little legs, ran full tilt at Theo. " _Sing! Sing!"_

The only word she knew, and she demanded it from everyone she ran into. _Especially_ Theo, for some unknown reason. The two of them had bonded instantly and Pansy didn't have to stretch to figure out why.

Theo loved her.

Really, he did.

She just didn't know if she could forgive him for things said between the two of them, but then, he didn't hold it against the surprise little sister that had stolen everyone's heart for her own.

Posy, dressed for the occasion in a frilly purple dress with ruffled sleeves and shiny black shoes, tugged on Theo's pant leg and demanded at the top of her lungs, " _SING!"_

Poor Theo, he couldn't carry a tune to save his life but Posy didn't care. Her Papa sang to her, so everyone else must do it too.

Pansy watched as Theo bent his knees and grabbed Posy with both hands under her arms, lifting her in the air a few times, making it seem like he might drop her. He wouldn't, but that was the thrill. The action revealed a fresh burn on his inner wrist for the briefest of seconds. "No," he said, but gently. "No one wants that baby girl."

" _Sing!"_

"Please, don't," Pansy snarled, catching Theo's eye. They were on the outs. Love or not. It wasn't just that burn on his wrist, his increasing Glim use. He was keeping secrets from her, and pretending that she couldn't tell he was lying about it to her face.

Draco leaned forward, snatched her from the air, blew a raspberry against Posy's chubby neck. It broke the moment. Thankfully. She knew she started it but that was neither here nor there.

"Down," Posy wiggled, not caring one bit for Draco's attention.

Oh, apparently she knew two words now.

Posy toddler-shuffled her way across the room and jumped into Pansy's lap. The safer bet. " _Sing!"_

"Sing?" Pansy tickled Posy's neck with her fingers, causing her to squirm. "You want me to sing?!"

" _Sing!"_

Draco joined Tory's side and Theo finished pouring his own drink before lumbering over. Even with the tension between them, Pansy felt the ease from earlier spread out, relax her shoulders. Her baby sister on her lap did more than anything to calm her from the constant rage she wore like a second skin lately.

She smelled like the fruit she'd eaten earlier and Tory's perfume she snuck into, floral and romantic. But Pansy just couldn't get over how _happy_ her sister seemed to be. She saw the world with wonder, not suspicion. If she fell over, it was _oops_ and try again instead of crying.

All sunshine and curiosity.

It made it easy to lean forward and start singing, remembering her father's favorite song with ease. _Childhood living, is easy to do._

"Sissy! _Sing!_ "

 _The things you wanted, I bought them for you._

Posy bounced happily, making gurgling sounds, trying to find harmony with Pansy. Never, in her wildest dreams, did she ever think she'd be part of such a scene. A happy child on her lap, singing along, having a birthday party. Her life lately had been all weapons and blood and learning the tricks of her trade.

By comparison, Posy was a glimpse into another life. Maybe one where her and Theo hadn't mucked it up so badly, had one of their own. She could just barely picture him as a father, probably worrying too much how he was performing the role and missing out on how well he'd do. It was far too late for that now, but a sweet dream posed no threat every once in awhile.

She sang the entire song, until Posy lost interest, or rather, decided she wanted Theo to sing. While Draco and Theo chased her around the house, filling it with laughter, Pansy turned to her present.

She plucked at the ribbon, unraveling it, before gently lifting the lid off the box. "Ooo _ohh_ ," she cooed, holding the necklace up. A square shaped emerald set in a gold chain. Typical, sure, but she had a thing for emeralds or any green stone.

"While you were training earlier, we took Posy to pick it out. She mostly smudged the glass at the jewelry shop. The owner seemed beyond miffed, but we rectified it by the gold spent," Tory told her casually, stroking her hair with her left hand in an obvious sort of way.

"Oh I see, I get the cheap trinket, you get the real ice," Pansy leaned forward, snatching Tory's hand. Where a glittering diamond engagement ring sat on Tory's 4th finger. "It's _huge_ , Drakey is _obviously_ trying to compensate for something, Tor."

"He is, he knows he doesn't deserve me, I'm far too good for the likes of him."

"Too good for all of us, more like," Pansy returned to her necklace, putting it around her neck. "It's lovely, I can't remember the last time I got new jewelry."

"I know that Tony fellow likes to get you knives, but a woman needs a little sparkle every once in awhile, no?" Tory winked in that sultry way she liked, the same look usually brought Draco to his knees.

"I have a feeling Draco will be getting you lots and lots of sparkle," Pansy scrunched up her face, but Tory knew how to interpret Pansy's attitude better than anyone.

"He better, for a long, long time."

Of course he would, Pansy wanted to say. Her old friend was so head over heels with Tory, almost out of nowhere it seemed. Draco always had a hard time expressing his feelings. But when he did, they were _real._

More, his life hadn't been a bowl of peaches. Pansy hoped for an easy marriage between the two, to give him a foundation in which he could stand steady upon. And to take good, good care of her friend.

"It's fortunate you got it for me, and not Theo," Pansy said, already comfortable playing with the pendant. "I might've thrown it back in his face."

"I wish you two would move past this tense, hostile after break-up phase, and get to the being friends part. Especially with how much your sister adores him. It would be cruel to keep them apart, Pans."

They both turned to watch their men chasing and doting on Posy, who giggled and screamed with joy. Theo picked her up again, tossing her into the air before swinging her around for a piggyback ride. "We'll take care of her," Tory added after a minute. "She's one of us now."

"I'm glad you all came to see me," she admitted, too caught up in the moment and too relaxed to censor herself. Later, she knew that familiar rage would creep back up and retake its place on her skin like the leather armor she adored so much. She should have been used to it by now, two whole years after the incident in Spain.

oOo

"You're wrong," Posy trailed after him as he made his way to Harry's office. He didn't like waiting for the elevator, so he took the stairs. "She would _never_ do that to Hal."

"How do you know?" he snapped right back at her.

"She _loves_ Hal," she tripped in her haste to keep up with him but he grabbed her by the back of the shirt in time to keep her from falling right into the concrete staircase face first.

He didn't release his hold, instead picking her up and swinging her around his back. She locked her arms around his neck out of habit, but continued to argue in his ear. "I _mean_ it Nev! She wouldn't do that, _ever._ "

"Posy, believe me." Pansy had been in Pearl's hands for months most likely. He couldn't trust what he knew of Pansy. And neither could Posy. The sooner she realized that, the safer she would be. "There's one thing I know for certain, Pansy would do _anything_ to get back to you. She's capable of _anything_ , if it meant," and he couldn't emphasize this enough, "Getting to you, she would _do anything_. Do you understand that?"

"How do you know," she whispered, refusing to surrender. He loved it. He loved that fight, a trait the sisters obviously shared. "How do you even know it was her?"

"Hey," Harry opened the door to his office before Neville could knock. "What's up, short stuff?"

"My idiot guardian thinks Pansy is the one who hurt Hal. He won't believe me when I say she _wouldn't_ do it," Posy insisted. "You believe me, don't you Harry?"

"I believe… Neville wouldn't say something he doesn't mean," Harry said slowly. "When someone says something outrageous, the first thing you should ask yourself is if there's proof."

"Ugh," Posy wiggled, giving him the signal she wanted down. "I know what you are all doing. Trying to make me think like an Auror."

"Guilty," Harry smiled with a shrug, but Neville spotted look in his eyes, the same he saw in the mirror every day. The need to get Posy up to par, so she could protect herself if any one of them weren't around to do it for her. "So what makes Neville think Pansy dumped Hal on your porch?"

"Let's talk inside your office," Neville said, eyeing the small crowd that had gathered down the hall, all of them peering curiously at Posy. He made sure the door was firmly shut before turning to Harry and laying it out, giving him the details from St. Mungo's.

" _Gattino_ in Italian, it means kitten," he told them, resisting the urge to rub his damn scar. It wasn't gat tina, it was _gattina._ His kitten, he still couldn't believe such a passing comment made while sleep deprived and delirious had stuck for so long.

"So Hal is supposed to be what? A cry for help? Why beat him up in the first place?" Harry asked, his brows pinched in deep thought. "You said he was more than half dead when you found him."

"Susan said he would have died if she hadn't gotten to him when she said, I think he was meant to be dead when I found him," Neville crossed his arms. "That's not a cry for help, that's a warning."

"Warning you from what? We haven't heard from Pansy, we don't know what she's been doing."

"There's only one thing I have going on right now…"

Harry and Neville looked at each other before simultaneously turning their heads to look at Posy.

Who looked miffed. "Oh don't stop on my account," she crossed her arms.

"Good grief, she looks like Hermione," Harry whispered in terror.

"Posy, something to add?" he asked, instead of reminding Harry that Hermione had been spending a huge amount of time with his ward. Teaching her. Training her. _They_ all had, Bobbi and Connor included. Not even they could resist Posy's quiet strength and sweet nature.

Too bad she was more stubborn than her sister.

"If my mother has Pansy, then my mother is controlling her. Pansy wouldn't stay with my mother. If Pansy left Hal like that, the message is from her, the warning is from my mother. I thought that would be obvious to you Aurors."

Her eye roll was palpable.

"At the Manor, that night," he didn't have to go into specifics, they always referred to the night Pansy left as _that night._ "Pansy tried to trade her services for you. She said she would go willingly. That's the last time I saw her, she knocked me out after that," he reminded her.

"But you said she was lying, and you _always_ know when people lie, Nev!"

"Po," he held up his hands to make a calming motion. "You're upset because it's your sister, try to take a step back and think of it as a problem to be solved."

"Grr," she dramatically walked over to Harry's desk chair, falling into it so hard it started spinning around. "Don't act like you never get emotional."

"Nothing gets him more emotional than your sister," Harry dropped casually.

"So glad I came back to work just to be abused," Neville kept his face straight but sent Posy a little wink in the hopes it would lift her spirits a bit. He wasn't trying to put her down, just explain the situation as it was. If Neville knew her, and he thought he did fairly well, Pansy had one priority: Posy. He could see her taking out Hal if such an action would accomplish her goal, _without_ hesitation. "Why don't you two hang for a bit, I need to talk to Bobs."

Harry immediately turned to Posy, hand out. "Want to go watch the new recruits? Doing stealth exercises today."

"This isn't over, Nev," Posy warned him with a stern finger before taking Harry's hand.

Then Harry gave Neville a 'we'll talk later' look and he didn't have to imagine what for. It was the same reason he had to talk to Bobbi, to see the recording of cell 529. Someone took those potions, killed their creator, and he wanted to know why.

But Bobbi was not in her office, her sister Spencer was.

No wait, "Hey you're…"

"Lou," the woman had the same bright blonde hair and blue eyes that both Bobbi and Spencer had, nearly identical face structure. But this sister had a small tattoo of a hummingbird on her neck that stood out, the wings appeared to be in motion, moving so quickly to be a blur. She took his hand firmly. "I'm Bobbi's sister."

"Are there really seven of you?" he asked, unable to resist.

"What, sisters? Yes, it's not as bad as it sounds," she smiled widely. Looking stunningly like Bobbi. And Spencer. "Coming to the party tonight? You can meet all of us."

"Yeah," he'd be there. Everyone he knew would be at the benefit ball to celebrate St. Mungo's reopening, to honor Susan Bones for her dedication and hard work to make that happen. Apt that the party was being hosted on the one year anniversary of the attack that destroyed the hospital in the first place… and the death of his parents. Then he realized he never introduced himself. "Oh, right. I'm Neville. Neville Longbottom."

"I know," Lou continued to smile, but he wasn't fool enough that he couldn't tell his awkwardness was getting to her. "We were both in Gryffindor house at Hogwarts. I was four years behind you though, so I wouldn't be surprised if you completely missed me."

"Oh," he scratched the back of his neck, attempting to place her. And coming up laughably short. Worse still, he'd never been all that great at talking to women _before_ his accident. Since Pansy, he was even worse. And Bobbi hadn't backed down one bit in the last half year.

She'd attempted several times to set him up with her sister, Spencer. Who blessedly found the entire situation funny instead of taking it to heart. Ginny and Susan had taken to telling people he was saving himself for Pansy, for whenever she decided to show back up, and it only spurred Bobbi to try even harder to set him up with someone, _anyone_ else. While Spencer laughed at the efforts, Bobbi managed to send everyone from the weekend receptionist to one of the new recruit trainers his way, looking for a coffee date.

None of them took him seriously when he said he _couldn't_ touch anyone. Not even Pansy, should she decide to come around again. Since the Glim burned through his system, something Susan said literally boiled his blood and ignited the remaining strength potion that lingered there, his strength had multiplied.

Before Pearl, he could pick up cars and jump through the air like it was nothing. Now, after… he had no problems building the tall wall around his property for Posy. Picking up the stones would have winded him before.

He'd done it all in a day without breaking a sweat.

Susan wanted to do a proper strength test on him, but he kept holding back.

"Don't worry," Lou gave him another smile, breaking him from his thoughts. "I won't let her try to set us up. Spence told us all about Bob's attempts to get the two of you down and dirty."

"Thank god," he mumbled. "Oh - sorry. No offense."

"None taken," she laughed openly. "I'm just waiting for Bobs, I've been assigned to the task-force."

" _The_ task-force?"

The one the Ministry of Magic decided it needed to solve their little problem. To fix magic once and for all, before their very way of life disappeared completely. All over the world, people were going wandless, not able to summon a puny little spark. But at places like Hogwarts magic still worked. Wolves still turned under the full moon. The diamond in his pocket gave him a good chill and powered his wand like normal.

Neville had hope magic could return. He hadn't a clue how so, but he had hope.

"That's the one," she slapped her thigh excitedly. "They say I'm an expert in Ancient Magicks or something. Time to go old school, that's my motto."

He decided he like her. "Well, good luck, if you see Bobbi let her know I stopped by?"

"Sure thing," Lou gave a small salute and the motion reminded him of Hal.

He left The Offices, and knowing Bobbi might need a few minutes with her sister, decided to walk the several blocks over to the Ministry of Magic street entrance, the new one, and took the only elevator down to level nine.

The Department of Mysteries.

And the entire smooth ride, he tried not to think about the last time he was there.

Sweat prickled the back of his neck as his stomach did flips, and not because of the damn elevator. Because Dillon Torres had tied him down and tortured him for a week. There was no electricity, no wayward spell that went awry. Torres injected him with his experimental strength potion and then took notes like a scientist over his lab rat.

Neville cracked his knuckles just as the elevator doors opened.

oOo

"Don't be upset with him, Po," Ron told her in a gentle voice, twirling around in a computer chair like a child. She sat cross legged on the table beside him. Together they watched the new recruits going through stealth exercises, Harry already yelling at two people for complaining when he took their wands away.

"Magic works at Hogwarts, but this isn't school. You're in the real world now, in the real world, we're all Muggles," he told the two lines of recruits. Men and women, didn't matter. They put away their wands and went into a prepared stance, finally seeing that Harry wasn't messing around.

"Pansy did _not_ hurt Hal," she insisted, not understanding why everyone was so sure that she had.

None of them knew what it was like, none of them understood what it was like to live with the wolf beneath the skin. Making her hungrier, shorting her temper out, giving her an extra pair of eyes. Hermione at least seemed sympathetic, her work keeping her in constant contact with many of Posy's kind.

But Hal did, Hal understood, and he knew best how to walk the line between human and wolf like none other she knew. Pansy knew it. Pansy knew Hal since before Posy was born, she loved him at one time. And when Posy got bitten, when she _changed_ , Pansy was there for her, taking her to Hal. Who took them to Sarah and Kath, who taught Posy how to be the wolf without losing herself.

"Do you have proof?" Ron asked in that sincere voice he always kept with her. Probably because they were the same age, maturity wise. Unlike Neville, Ron never raised his voice at her. Or dismissed her outright. Or made her feel _crazy._

No, wait, that wasn't fair. Neville wasn't dismissing her, he just disagreed with her. She blew out a frustrated breath and looked over her shoulder at him, still spinning. "No," she admitted. "But none that she did do it either."

"Nev explained to you the message?" Ron asked, and she knew exactly what he was doing. Trying to lead her to the right conclusion.

"Yes," she growled, watching one of the recruits. He had thin, dirty blonde hair and a ratty looking face. He was older than the rest of the recruits, but something about the way he watched Harry made her nervous. "I speak Italian, if they hadn't tried to keep me out of it in the first place, I could have _told_ Nev that."

"They told you why they think it's Pansy?"

"Because you all hate her," Posy punched a fist into her opposite hand, wishing she could just _talk_ to Pansy. Make sense of it once and for all. Nev told her how much Pansy wanted to save her, how hard she worked to get there that night. Why, if she did all that, would she just up and disappear afterwards? There had to be a good reason Pansy stayed away all these months.

A really good one.

More than the current theory that Pearl had her, Pansy could get out of any cage, undo any lock. No prison could keep her, so why would she stay with Pearl? It had to be Glim. Posy watched first hand Pearl wielding the drug as a weapon, using it to control hordes of wolves to do her bidding, make her money, do her dirty work, take the blame if they got caught...

"Because she's not as nice as I am," Posy punched her hand again, pretending _she_ was the one training. The one punching. The rat man caught her staring but she didn't look away. Instead, she let the wolf leak into her eyes until he felt the need to look away. "Because none of you _understand_ her…"

"Because Neville calls her kitten," Ron said, his voice going even softer. "And she pretends to hate it, and picks a fight with him, and then they fight for _real_ , only to do it all over again."

Surprise had her dropping her hands and turning to look at him. "Like a pet name? Like a _couple?_ "

Nev let it slip during a little tif that he loved Pansy, but she knew there was the other side of that as well. Neville didn't _trust_ Pansy either. So she didn't expect… One time, Theo called Pansy ' _darling'_ after one too many drinks, and Theo had a black eye for almost two weeks. Her sister _did not_ like pet names. She hated them with a passion.

Ron shrugged for like the millionth time. "Not many know that little tidbit, either."

"So you're saying..." Posy sighed. She knew what he was doing and still walked right into it. She changed tact. "I can't accept it then."

"Can't or won't baby girl?"

He hadn't called her by such an affectionate name before, but though her gut instinct was to tell him not to refer to her as a child or a girl, she realized, or rather _remembered,_ that Theo used to call her baby girl when she was really little. It made her miss being that small, being adored by Pansy's friends. Having two big brothers of her own. Because their age gap ended up being so large, they never had that awkward stage of needing to be separate like siblings sometimes do.

Instead, they always included her and made her feel special.

Now Nev's friends were doing the same.

Ron swung in his chair hard enough that he spun around several times before slowing down. "Okay, watch this move."

Posy settled her wolf down and turned to watch the group. To learn. She studied the exact, methodical movements of the new recruits while Ron watched her. "It's about mental-"

"Discipline," she finished for him. "About conditioning the muscles so you act on instinct. What do you think Nev and I do together? Knit wool hats?"

He burst into laughter, causing several in the room to look over in their direction. "I can only imagine Nev trying to knit."

"Well, I can't imagine the situation that would arise to make my sister try to kill Hally," she insisted. "Ron, believe me, please. No one else does. Pansy wouldn't. Not to Hal. Anyone else, yeah. But. Not. Him."

He didn't say anything, but after watching the recruits for another half hour, Ron nodded his head. "Let's find out who did it then."

"Nice try, but you're retired," Posy stuck her tongue out at him, mostly because he made it impossible to be angry with him.

He shrugged, and swung around in his chair, "But Neville isn't."

"And he says Bobbi won't let me help, I'm too -" she punched her hand again. "-young."

"It's okay, I'll run interference," he winked at her, finally coming to a stop. "When I was about your age, Harry, Hermione, and I were getting into some serious trouble. Just try not to get into _too_ much trouble, heard?"

"Heard," she gave him a fist bump. Then she had a thought. "What _kind_ of trouble?"

oOo

Several blocks over, Susan Bones paced back and forth in her office, not wondering how she got into this situation in the first place, but rather _why_ she let it happen. She never thought that the day Posy and Draco Malfoy came to visit Nev at Mungo's would lead to a meeting in her office about funding.

He had money.

She needed it.

That meeting lead to another meeting. And a third.

Until she had a board, until she had staff, until she had potion vendors and directors and assistants. And she wouldn't have been able to do it without Draco. Frickin. Malfoy.

 _Crap on a cracker!_

She hated it. Hated the feeling of having this man hold this power over her. At any time he could look her in the eye and say she wouldn't have been able to do it without him, and it would be the _truth._

But her pride wasn't worth people's lives. Getting St. Mungo's up and running again, especially if magic was gone, was worth more than that pride. So the first time that bast- _that man_ \- leaned in to kiss her, she _let him._

Worse, she kept doing it! What was the matter with her?! She was a certified Healer and a Doctor, she had a shiny degree framed in her office to prove it. She should be smarter than this, smart enough to know she was playing with serious fire.

She ran her fingers through her hair out of sheer frustration, but the movement only served to remind her that she'd been wearing it down _for_ him.

For him!

Ever since Malfoy passively mentioned she might look good with it down instead of her usual ponytail. Susan was sure he didn't do it to manipulate her, the comment _felt_ sincere when he said it, almost like the thought struck him and he couldn't resist saying it out loud. But now she couldn't help but wonder what his endgame was.

What the hell- what the _heck_ \- was he getting out of this?

Not money.

He'd sunk so much money into this venture she wasn't sure how he would ever get it back. He had been clear from the start all the gold he'd given was a _donation_ , nothing more. Not an investment, not a loan. Oh and tonight. This charade! A party in her honor, for all she'd _done_ for Mungo's? How was she supposed to attend this Ball and keep a straight face?

Dear God, she'd have to wear that ridiculous gown.

"Susan?"

She jumped, hand over heart. Turning to look at her personal assistant, Chip. All six and half feet of him. Tall, dark, and all smiles. The exact opposite of the man that kept _kissing her!_ "Chip, you scared me."

"Sorry to interrupt your inner monologuing," he dragged the word out with a zesty grin that made her want to stomp her feet and throw a tantrum. She wouldn't, but damn- _dang_ \- she wanted to! "But you told me to warn you if Mr. Malfoy entered the building, and he's currently taking the elevator up to this floor."

Oh no. "Good man, and if he asks you where I am?"

"I'm to say you're busy with a patient and won't be available today."

"I love you, Chip." She leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss his scuffed up face, which darkened under her attention. "You're the best, don't ever leave me, I gotta go."

"Cya at the Ball!" he called as she hurried past him and down the hall to the Floo room. She snuck in just as she heard the elevator door open.

The worst part about the whole thing, if it meant he would keep donating his piles of gold and silver, she knew she would keep kissing him if he wanted. Keep meeting him for 'business' dinners and stealing away kisses in her office when people weren't around.

And that… that made her a _whore._

oOo

"I studied under Torres but I swear I never knew anything about the strength potions!"

Neville held down a Kurt Grueller, as gently as he could, face pressed into the man's own desk. "Believe it or not, this is literally taking nothing from me to do. I can keep it up all day."

"Please-" Kurt struggled, but couldn't get away while Neville had him pinned.

It felt good to release a bit of his anger on the only person he could find, though he made sure keep his grip as light as possible. "If you don't know anything, why did you try to _run_ when you saw me?"

The _very_ moment Kurt laid eyes on him, the short and stocky man had darted for the door at full speed, getting tangled up in his own overly long dark robes. Neville had caught him in two seconds flat. His first chase since coming back to the job. Even he had to admit how anticlimactic it felt.

"Wouldn't you? Everyone knows who you are, that you're back on the job to find out who murdered Torres," Kurt panted, afraid and clearly nervous. "Maybe it's not public knowledge, but down here, down on Nine, we all know you ended up with permanent strength and Torres ended up with life in Azkaban. Doesn't take a super genius to connect the dots."

"If an Auror walked into my place of work, I would answer their questions honestly and help them in anyway I could," Neville told him. "Because I have nothing to hide. People who _do_ have something to hide, they _run._ Guess which category you fall under, Kurt?"

"No-no-no," Kurt's voice rose an octave. "I _swear_ , I didn't know anything about the potions."

"Do you know how someone was able to steal them from the department?" Nev asked, holding his position.

He had to admit, it felt good. Really good.

"The vault is supposed to be locked up after the last one of us leaves, but nothing works as it should since magic went _kaput_. It could have been any one of the team, but I wasn't even on shift the day those potions went missing, I was at home, with my mum, I swear, you can ask her."

Reluctantly, Neville let Kurt up, releasing his grip once he started talking. "Give me a list of names all the staff that works down here."

"You know I can't," Kurt backed up as far as possible, holding his hands up in surrender. "Unspeakables, all of our projects are blind studies. So we can go in without any bias. None of us know who all is on staff."

"Someone has to know, to organize you into your projects?" Neville took out his pad and pen and gave Kurt a hard state.

"I'll give you my handler's name and that's all I can do, I swear if I knew more I would say something." Kurt stammered out his handler's name and the only other team member he knew of without further hesitation. "The potions, they weren't even labeled, whoever stole them _knew_ exactly where they were."

"Okay, thanks for the information, Kurt." Neville took out a card and left it on the desk. "If you think of anything else, you should give me a call."

He carefully maneuvered through the twisting and windy hallways that made up level nine, until he came to the vault. The reinforced room where The Ministry kept magical items they wanted locked away and forgotten about. A place average people just didn't know about. There weren't many Unspeakables, and Neville was reluctant to think any of them would steal from their own place of work.

It took a _lot_ to get a position down here.

Still, he wouldn't be satisfied until he questioned every last Unspeakable.

"Hey, I know you," a tall, thin woman said from her desk, if you could call it that, just outside the entrance to the vault. The huge table was cluttered with a plethora of strange items and trinkets across it, mechanic gadgets and gizmos, plants of all sizes, and big vases full of different colored liquids. A tiny blue grey colored owl perched off a stack of books, eyeing him up as he walked forward.

She looked _familiar_ but he couldn't place her soft features. "Most people do, and you are?"

Immediately, she looked taken aback by his blunt tone, but it didn't trip her up. She stood and shook his hand before he could stop her. "Lonnie McDonald, you helped my sister a while back."

"Who's your sister?" he asked, happy to be recognized for something other than the usual Glorious Gryffindor _crap_ , or his situation with Posy.

"Bre McDonald? Her ass of ex was giving her a hard time, you and your partner beat him and all his jerk friends up."

"Ahh," he smiled. He remembered Bre. Susan's patient him and Pansy had gone to check up on. "How is she? She was pregnant right? The kid's okay, I hope?"

"Great," then Lonnie smiled back and took out a cell phone, bringing up a few pictures of a newborn baby dressed in blue and yellow. "Really great, I'm glad I ran into you so I could thank you properly. She hasn't had any issues with Ricky since that day."

"Cute kid," he said, keeping his hands to himself. "I'm here on a case, Dillon Torres's potions got stolen from this vault, you know anything about that?"

"It's why I'm here now," she rolled her eyes and retook her seat. "I guess my work isn't important enough to warrant my own office, I get to do it here and double as a guard. Can't use my wand anymore, what am I going to do, throw Bug at some would be thief?"

"Bug?" he asked, but his eyes went to the tiny, tiny owl still giving him the stare down.

"Bug," she patted the owl on the head once.

"If magic is gone from the world-" he started, but she interrupted him almost right away.

"Magic is _not_ gone from the world, Mr. Longbottom!"

"Uh- Call me Neville."

"Neville." Then she went right into the rant as if she practiced it several times. "Magic is not gone from the world, magic is gone from _us._ We can't use the earth's magic anymore, but charmed items still have their charms. Natural magicks still work, if you know how to use them, naturally magical places all across the world still have their power. It's _us_ that's broken. We're not worthy anymore. War, murder, drugs, all this in the past few decades? Might as well have asked for it ourselves."

He wanted to agree with her, it was a good theory. But Pansy and Harry went and blew up two tons of Glimmer. He was pretty sure that had something to do with the recent state of affairs. "So the potions…"

"Right," Lonnie's eyes bugged out. "I just get worked up, you know. I worked that day but I wasn't the last one here, that was Julian."

Neville added the name to his list. "You know where I could find him?"

"He's not here, I think it's just me and Kurt, but if you come back tomorrow I can show you to his desk. He keeps it in the pool room."

"Pool room?"

She shrugged and then gave a short, sharp burst of laughter. "It's a mysterious place down here on nine."

He dropped a card into her hand a minute later, feeling a touch better than when he first arrived. Lonnie seemed honest and willing to help, and he knew a little bit more after his visit. Whoever took the potions from the vault knew where they were, they weren't labeled. He needed to find out exactly who knew where those potions were stored and go from there.

Neville pulled out his phone and called Bobbi as he took the elevator up. He really needed to see that recording. The potions going missing right before the creator is found dead could not be a coincidence. But just as he went to hit the call button, his own phone starting pinging.

 _Where are you? You want this recording or not?_

"Jeez, Bobbi."

oOo

Posy unbuckled her backpack and pulled out the small hat she got for Hermione and Ron's baby. She didn't make it or anything special like that, but she did manage to sew in a row of forget-me-nots into the delicate pink fabric. "Here," she handed it to Ron. "For Rosie."

Ron did that thing where his face went bright pink. Almost as pink as the hat she held out for him. "You made this?"

"No," she shook her head and slid her arms through the straps of her bag . "Just did the bit with the flowers. Thanks for hanging out with me, I'll see you at the party tonight."

"Whoa, where are you off to?" he asked, suddenly worried.

She wasn't though. Being around someone who could always tell truth from a lie, even a lie of omission, felt refreshing after so many years with Pearl. Her mother had fallen so deep into the life that she couldn't believe honesty even if it looked her right in the face. Never believing Posy or any of the people she kept in her employ.

And it kept Posy honest too, she didn't want to be like her mother, didn't want to be a liar. She knew exactly how little lies can add up to big ones quick as a snap, the difficulty of keeping them all in line, manipulating others with honeyed words. _Her_ mother's saying, not her own.

Posy loved that Neville had this little gift, to see through lies. But it also had the side effect of making her a better liar to others. It hadn't worked on Nev, yet, but lying with the truth was a skill her family seemed to excel at.

"Nev and I have a conversation to finish," Posy told Ron. "I'll meet him in his office."

Harry was busy with the recruits and Ron wouldn't argue with that, after all, it _was_ the truth. She told Nev as much earlier. And it helped that her human friends trusted her. So she left the training room making sure not to look back, she didn't want Ron doubting her words, and took the stairs up. Instead of turning left towards Neville's office however, she took a right toward the Floo rooms.

Confidence was key. She nodded hello to the Patrol Officer that guarded the door, recognizing him from all the time she spent at the Offices lately, and walked through without a problem.

The problem came when Susie came through the Floo at that very moment, her head turned over her shoulder as if making sure no one was following her, ash swirling around her hair.

"Susie!"

The redhead looked down at her in surprise. "Posy, what are you doing here? Where's Nev?"

"Nev is out working, I was just watching Harry with the new recruits and decided to go see Mrs. Malfoy, I haven't be over there in a few days."

"Malfoy huh?" Susie's eyes went wide for the briefest of seconds, but Posy caught the movement right away. "How about we play hooky before the ball tonight? I need chocolate and I could use some advice…"

It was the first time she'd ever seen Susie look so nervous before. Usually she beamed confidence. "You had me at chocolate."

"Good," Susie peered over her shoulder again before grabbing Posy's hand.

She walked so fast, Posy had trouble keeping up. And not through the Floo, instead Susie took them out the front entrance of the Offices and they walked down the streets of Muggle London, people staring strangely at Susie's bright yellow Healer's robes.

"Is everything okay, Sus? You seem, like, freaking out a bit?"

She pulled her into a corner shop that smelled of sprinkles and ice cream cones and breathed a heavy sigh of relief once the door was closed firmly behind them. "Let's order first, then we can talk."

"Do you have?" Posy held her fingers and brushed them together. She had loads of gold, but no Muggle currency.

"Yes, I'll pay silly girl," Susie bumped her gently as if she should know better.

But Posy was only trying to be considerate, because she was getting at least six scoops. Susan ordered a cappuccino, and asked for two spoons as if Posy would be willing to share her waffle bowl full of double chocolate chunk. It seemed to calm the cashier anyways.

"You seem upset," she finally said after they took the corner table. Susie put her back to the wall as she asked the question and ran her fingers through her hair in a way that reminded Posy of her sister. Pansy used to do the same thing when working through a problem, usually, she remembered suddenly, when Pansy was frustrated with Theo.

"I'm annoyed with Neville," Posy admitted, digging into her ice cream with relish despite missing her sister. She couldn't say why, but lately food started tasting far better than it ought to. "He promised he wouldn't keep things from me but he didn't tell me about the message left on Hally, and _I_ would have known what it meant. I grew up with Pansy speaking Italian to me."

"Oh," another run through with her fingers. Then Susie said, "That's my fault, Po. I waited until you left with-" Her eyes bulged with the slightest of pauses. "Malfoy… before telling Neville."

"Why? You don't think I can handle," Posy looked around, checking to see if anyone was in immediate earshot. "Handle _that?_ Do you know the blood and gore I've seen during and after the Full Moon? I used to run with the Barton's."

"It's not about what you can and can't handle, sweet girl, it's about whether or not you should. Being constantly pushed to the limit is no way to live and, whatever you may believe, you don't have to prove how tough you are to me. Or Neville for that matter. But don't be mad at him for that, today of all days, it was my decision not his."

Posy wanted to keep picking at it, but she could tell Susie meant well. "You were just trying to protect me, I should be thankful not upset. How do I prove it wasn't Pansy that did that to Hal though? Ron said he would help keep Bobbi off my back while Neville and I search, but he's trying to find whoever stole those potions from the Department of Mysteries."

"Proving her innocence might lead you to the guilty party, start there," Susie patted Posy's hand. "I hope you don't think he _wants_ her to be guilty."

"Of course he does!" Posy stuffed a giant spoonful of ice cream into her mouth after her outburst.

"No, because then he'll have to throw her in jail if he catches her," Susie leaned in to whisper. "She's his top suspect, so that's what he's going off of. He doesn't want it to be her."

They were starting to make sense, Ron and Susie and Harry. She didn't like it. "Why not today of all days? Because of the ball?"

It was a big deal, she understood that. Susie deserved the honor. Nev spent half his time talking about how proud he was of her and all the work she did to get to this point. But what did that have to do with what Susie said?

Reluctantly, Susie said, "Neville's mum and dad were patients at St. Mungo's when the wolf attack happened last year."

"They died?" she dropped her spoon, suddenly way less hungry. Posy knew his parents were dead, just not how. Or when. Or why. "Why doesn't anyone tell me these things? I've been so mean to him all day! I'm such a jerk."

"He won't want to hear about it, okay? He'll feel better if you don't mention it," Susie warned her quietly.

"Okay," Posy pushed her ice cream over to Susie, sensing it was time to talk about _her_ problems instead of her own. "So, you're avoiding my big brother?"

"Brother? Oh." Susie's face went stark white. "Draco? No, why do you ask?"

"Because every time I say the name _Malfoy_ your eyes look like saucers."

On cue, Susan's tawny colored eyes turned big and round, fearful almost. And Posy couldn't understand the fear. Draco wasn't a scary guy, maybe just a little lonely since Tory passed away.

"I'm not as tough as you are, I don't think I can go to this ball," Susie finally said after a long quiet moment, picking up her spoon and taking a chocolatey bite. "And he keeps kissing me, what's that about?"

"Kissing? Like…" Posy made a smoochy face.

"Don't tell anyone, _please._ "

"Sure, I'll keep your secret, Susie." Posy paused just long enough to watch her face relax with relief. Then said, "But only if you come to the ball tonight."

With a groan, she laid her head down on the table. "Posy I can't-"

" _Wait_ a minute, I have the best idea!" And it would give Susie a good reason to show up for her own ball.

oOo

Neville walked into Bobbi's office for the second time that day and came face to face with Chris Avery. It still blew his mind that Bobbi and Harry decided to promote this man to Auror. At least he appeared sweaty from his training session. Giving it even minimal effort.

"Auror Longbottom," he said with a sharp smile. There would be no more 'sirs' from him. They were on equal footing, if Avery wanted to believe that.

"Auror Avery," he replied back politely. Neville could be nice. When he wanted to. And he could be patient, Avery would give him an excuse to bash heads in. Neville just had to wait. Wait and watch. The first time he caught him manhandling the receptionist would be the last time.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Avery," Bobbi said with force when he didn't immediately leave. To Neville she said, "It's about time, what did you do, take a 2 hour lunch break? You _just_ got your badge back."

"I haven't had lunch," Neville replied shortly, shutting the door after Avery finally left. "I went to the Ministry to question the staff on level Nine about Torres. Before that I came here, but you weren't here. Your sister was."

"Which one?" Bobbi crossed her arms, not cowed in the slightest.

Neville could've cursed himself for giving her an opening like that. "Doesn't matter-"

"Sure it does," she leaned against her desk, arms still folded, and leveled him with a playful smile. "Honestly, Nev, would it be so terrible to go out for one coffee with Spencer? She's _perfect_ for you."

He mirrored her position, leaning against the door and folding his own arms across his chest. Wondering how to squash this obsession she had to get Neville dating again. "Bobbi, tell me about her."

He watched her eyes light up with hope. "She's hard working, loves to garden, she's active, and she's hysterical, always laughing. Perfect for you. _You_ never laugh."

He feigned interest. "She likes making out? Holding hands? Cuddling?"

"Loves it!" Bobbi said enthusiastically.

"Then she isn't perfect for me," he practically yelled at her. "Bobbi, do you not realize that I cannot touch another person without bruising them? Without hurting them? It's not something that's out of control or something I do on accident like before. I'm so much stronger, I can't hold an egg without breaking the shell, so why the hell would you want me around you sister? Haven't you wondered why I refuse to hold Rosie?"

 _Finally,_ finally she seemed to hear him. "So you're not… waiting for Parkinson?"

"No, damnit. I can't be with her. I can't be with anyone, not unless this goes away," he slapped his bicep. "Susan says it's permanent, Bobs. I'm stuck this way. So everyone who keeps making cracks about what a gift my strength is and how I'm saving myself for Pansy is clueless."

"Okay, I'm sorry," Bobbi said softly, her gaze dropping to the floor.

"Are you going to lay off the coffee date then?"

"Yes," she nodded and turned her back to him which made him feel like a ripe ass.

"Let's… watch the recording," he said in a softer voice, wishing he hadn't opened his damn mouth in the first place. Arguing with Bobbi made his stomach sour, but somehow this felt worse.

When she turned back to him she held a small laptop in the palm of her hand, her other fingers typing on the keyboard. "I have it here."

Which reminded him… "I was wondering if you still have Nott's laptop in storage?"

The question threw her but she didn't hesitate. "I think so, I can check for you after this."

"Thanks."

She clicked a few more times before turning the laptop so he could also see the screen. She sat the small computer down on the desk and clicked the round _play_ button. "Okay, have fun."

"You aren't going to watch it with me?"

"I want to, but I don't have time," she patted his arm in the same place he'd slapped earlier. "I'll… see you tonight, at the benefit."

And then he watched Bobbi do something he'd never seen before. She ran away.

"Damn, I'm an asshole," he told the back of her office door before turning to the recording. He didn't wait, tinkering with the keys and controls before hitting the play button. A few months ago the laptop wouldn't have worked down here in the Offices, but magic being gone made way for other things. Some better. Some worse.

He watched Torres sit in his cell without moving for ten minutes before he hit the fast forward, taking far too much pleasure in seeing him with nothing to do, no one to talk to. No one to harm. The video zipped by until he caught movement, backed it up.

A cloaked figure pressed into the bars, catching Torres's attention. They spoke, but there was no sound for Neville to listen to. As he watched, Torres stood up, laughing. Gloved hands came from beneath the cloak, wrapping around the bars of the cell door. A tug and the door opened without resistance, changing the look on Torres's face in an instant.

The person walked into 529 and grabbed Torres by the throat, lifting him up into the air with one hand. Strong, he thought. _Very_ strong.

Damn, he realized then that he was hoping the black hooded figure would be Pansy. They were the same height, her and the figure. The same size too. But even as strong as she was, she wasn't strong enough to lift a grown man by the throat with one hand.

The other hand lifted, and from the palm came forward a long, two pronged silver sword. One made of two blades that paralleled each other before hooking out at the tip at a sharp, deadly angle.

Neville backed it up, rewatched it. Whoever it was didn't pull the blade from beneath the cloak.

It came to their hand. Magically.

He couldn't help backing it up once more, watching with fascination as the sword seemed to grow outwards from the palm of their hand before they slammed the blade through Torres. Killing the man instantly.

The sword shrunk back down into nothing and the figure wiped their hands together before fading back into the darkness and disappearing all together.

Neville rewound it. Watched it. Again. And again. Again.

Again.

* * *

I have a picture of the sword described, if anyone is interested just shoot me a PM. Pansy where _are you?!_ Also, did I mention I'm a sucker for a good rare pair? If you're enjoying it, let me know! :)


	26. Chapter 26

A little light violence in this chapter.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty Six**

(With Posy's magnifying glass, and who is crying? Certainly not Neville)

"Happy Birthday, Pansy. My little flower," Seraphina Aurelia Iohanna di'Siena placed a graceful hand against her cheek with an affectionate manner. She could do that.

She could do whatever she wanted to do. And she usually did.

It helped they were alone, finally, after the long day they spent pandering to the royal family about an impossible situation. It certainly wasn't the first time Pansy had been thrown under the bus, so to speak. But the gut churning, raw pit in her stomach didn't have much to do with that.

Pansy stared into the hypnotic, otherworldly green eyes of the Royal Queen, her highness who ruled with artistic beauty and a velvet fist over the magical community in old Italia. The powerhouse behind the Academy of Immortals. Half human, half... something else, and unlike most raving mad, unstable creatures that came from such a union, Sera lacked most of the negative genetic anomalies that resulted in a child born of two species that shouldn't breed.

"You're mistaken, Sera," Pansy said softly, placing a hand over the hand on her cheek, unable to stop herself from returning the affection. Even after everything that happened, Pansy found it difficult to blame her highness for the role she played. With her other hand, she ran her fingers through the thick, glossy strands of Sera's mahogany tinted hair, pulling her closer.

In the privacy of Seraphina's personal quarters, Pansy was able to use the nickname that would earn another severe punishment. "My birthday isn't until tomorrow."

"So it is," a deep, beautiful smile that went well with the glittering gemstones of her eyes. Pansy had never seen such a dazzling color before, but it reminded her of the most exotic of snakes. Beautiful and deadly. "But I see the look in your eyes, the wanderlust on your face. I fear you won't be here tomorrow for me to wish your birthdate well."

Italy felt like home, in a way that home never did. The people accepting, her role necessary, the romance of the land and cities singing to her soul. For a few years anyways. Pansy felt like she found a place where she belonged. But now she knew better. She'd been a pawn, but not intentionally. "I did exactly as you asked of me," she said, somehow upset at herself and not the proper party that deserved her frustration.

Why should she feel guilty for leaving? Sera didn't want her there any longer, if she had, she wouldn't have set Pansy up. Instead, Pansy let Sera lean in, press a kiss against her lips. It expressed what words could not.

"Will you ever forgive me, my little flower?" Her tone full of regret.

There was nothing to forgive, strangely. Pansy felt nothing but gratitude towards Sera, for somehow getting her to remember the unfairness of life. That even if she did everything right, it could still go all wrong. And more importantly… She couldn't trust _anyone._ Not even family.

Not even home.

"Depends on what present you've gotten me for my birthday," Pansy lied easily, presenting a coy little smile she knew her Queen loved. She'd become so good at it, lying, even Sera couldn't tell. And vampires, even half breeds, always knew the truth from lies. She hoped to one day meet someone who could see through her bullshit, to find someone she could be herself around.

"You can have anything of mine that your heart desires," Sera whispered softly between them.

"Anything, huh?" Pansy stepped forward, closing the gap between them, and giving her Queen a kiss that would make Sera forget that Pansy hadn't actually said what it was she wanted.

oOo

Officially cornered, Susan gulped and pressed her back against the glass wall. Curse Posy Parkinson for convincing her to attend this ball, this charade being held in her honor. Curse her for picking out this monstrosity of a gown to wear.

Curse her for being right.

On both sides she was surrounded by tumbling river gardenias, their scent intoxicating and heady. Though nowhere near potent as the man in front of her.

With the strappy heels that hurt her feet, they were the same height. But he still managed to make her feel smaller, especially as he stepped forward, closing the space between them. She wasn't savvy enough to know the rich scent of his cologne, but it suited him. Suited his wealth. And it mixed with the damn flowers until her mouth watered.

Hunger, but not for food.

"You've been avoiding me."

Yep. Big yep. 100% yep.

Her voice warbled. "No, in fact, I have a rather serious question for you," she summoned all the courage she had by channeling Neville and Connor, the toughest people she knew. Then she looked Draco Malfoy right in the eye.

oOo

Neville glanced around, pulling at his black tie while wishing he was wearing his jeans and leather jacket instead, searching for his girls among the crowd of well dressed witches and wizards. There wasn't a wolf in sight.

Ten minutes.

He'd been there for ten minutes and already managed to trip over his own shoes twice. At that rate, it was looking to be a very long night at The Conservatory.

A string quartet played in the corner of the ballroom, candles lit the air from crystal chandeliers. Beyond the glass walls, Neville could spot the thousands of plants and flowers sprawling across the grounds and greenhouse as the summer sun began to set. And the formal setting made his skin crawl, all made worse by his history with the place.

He hadn't had anything but bad luck at this damn place in the past. He should have stayed home instead dooming his best friend's night of honor. He might've, if it hadn't been for Posy. Who had talked about this benefit all week in excitement. Not even the cloud of Hal's perilous condition had dampened her determination to have a good time.

Susan messaged him hours ago, to tell him Posy was with her, and it made him realize he really needed to keep better track of his ward while on the job. Just another thing he seemed to be failing at.

He let her go off with Harry, who he trusted without measure, but who knows how she ended up not at The Offices, not with Harry, or Ron, or Bobbi, or Connor. Of course he trusted Susan as much as Harry or any of their friends.

That wasn't the problem.

But she worked several blocks over at St. Mungo's. Did Posy walk there? Take the Floo? Did anyone go with her? He wondered if regular parents felt this way about their kids, or if he was just obsessing for no reason. Surely it would be okay to let Posy, a very capable wolf, walk twenty minutes to St. Mungo's?

 _But_ , his brain seemed to scream at him, Pearl was out there, alive. She could be _anywhere_. She could be at the benefit that very instant, though Neville very much doubted she would show her face with the area practically crawling with Aurors. The woman had a penchant for getting others to do her dirty work, so even if he managed to get everyone at the Offices _and_ The Ministry _and_ St. Mungo's keeping an eye out, someone they weren't looking for at all could grab Posy at any time.

He wouldn't have known it, because Neville had been engrossed with the Azkaban recording for far longer than he should have. Watching and rewatching the unknown cloaked figure murder Torres until the images were imprinted on his mind. He had a feeling they would stick there, in his memory, much the same way Katherine Whittler's dead body did.

The same way he couldn't forget the memory of Pansy Parkinson rushing into battle, hair flying behind her, and that little scar beneath her ear. Lonnie McDonald had drummed up those particular images when she mentioned her sister, Bre, earlier. And made him realize that was the first day he started to admire Pansy. The day they partnered up for the first time, did good things together.

And probably set him on this path he walked now.

Worrying his damn head off over where Posy had gotten to.

He tried not to think that he would never see Pansy again, that Posy was her parting gift. Just like the scar on his shoulder. Permanent, irreversible. He hadn't lied when he told Posy he believed Pansy would be back, that she couldn't bear to let him forget her. But if Pearl had her all this time…

Neville just didn't think Pansy would come out of that situation the same, if even alive.

He carefully maneuvered through the throngs of people, trying not to forcefully bump or knock anyone over, keeping his hands to himself. Trying not to trip. Those people recognized him, called out his name in hello. Some whispered as he walked by, others openly smiled and waved.

One even had the guts to stop him and tell him how much she admired what he did, taking in that poor helpless wolf girl who had no one to depend on.

Helpless his pale pasty ass.

Not that he said such a thing to the older witch with her feathered hat and earnest expression. Most days he would be lost without Posy, not the other way around. Neville didn't know how he got by before she came to live with him, it seemed like a lifetime ago.

Would it be wrong to put a tracker on her? He could slip it in that backpack she took with her everywhere and then his peace of mind… would still be shot. She would be miffed when she found out, and there was no doubt she would. He could just imagine her yelling ' _Boundaries!'_ at him in a mocking tone.

Okay. Bad idea.

Neville avoided the press, taking a long path around the dance floor, overhearing Hermione comment to a group of professors that Hogwarts just happened to sit on the largest magical 'hot-spot' in Europe, one with far more juice than the baby one The Conservatory was built on.

They, the press that is, hadn't picked up yet on his return to the badge and he could wait for _that_ article his whole life. If only it were possible. The news hadn't exactly been kind when they reported Bobbi had taken it in the first place. While he had been in a wheelchair, trying to take care of Posy, and getting called a _pervert_ for it _._ They also managed to make sure everyone who read the prophet knew exactly how unemployed he was just to add insult to injury.

He wouldn't care, normally.

But there was always Posy to think about. "Now where did you get to, little wolf?" he muttered to himself, narrowly avoiding a gaggle of young witches who seemed to be following him around the room not so covertly.

They should've been on the floor, dancing with the rest of the party goers.

He spotted Bobbi's friend Fran, looking far too inebriated, and made a sharp turn past the glittering table full of champagne flutes and headed in the other direction. Someone had come in with a narrow stage, raising the floor along the far wall, the steps decorated with healer-yellow ribbons. He spotted portraits of older witches and wizards in their bright Healer's robes, looking right and regal.

The Head Healers of the past, the first dated with the year 902. Except this couldn't be all of them, there were too few portraits for that. Neville followed the line down until he reached the end, stopped, and looked up at Susan's young, frowning face. Young, especially compared to the others. And he could tell she hadn't enjoyed having her picture taken _one bit._ No one else might be able to tell, but Neville and her had been friends since 4th year, joined the DA in 5th, became Herbology partners in 6th, and rebelled in 7th.

They went through Auror training together until she split off to become a Healer and they've been best friends ever since.

He knew what Susan's pissed off face looked like. And he was looking right at it.

"Yes."

Neville spun on his foot. "Yes?"

Susie stood wearing a long, yellow dress that had his eyes bulging. Her arms were crossed over the tight, layered bodice of that lacy dress, as if she were trying to cover herself up, seeming down right uncomfortable. Her red hair up in a complicated twist he couldn't even begin to describe except it looked nothing like her usual ponytail. "You're thinking, _wow_ , that Susan Bones sure looks sour. And I'm telling you, yes, yes I am."

"Hate to break it to you, Susie," he couldn't help but smile at her bad temper, "but I was thinking you looked ticked. I know how much you _love_ getting your picture taken though, so I can't imagine why."

The sour look translated just as well in real life. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"If by 'this' you mean getting to see you all dressed up and getting the recognition you deserve? Then yes, I am enjoying this. I'd apologize for being a terrible friend but you put up with me anyways."

He reached out with his hand, gently ran a finger across her cheek. The skin flushed under his attention, Susan more than aware exactly what it would take to get him to willingly touch another. "I don't deserve any of this and I hate dresses and it was _your ward_ that made me wear this dreaded piece of fluff in the first place."

"She's a big bully alright, and speaking of Posy, where is she? I'm considering putting a tracker on her."

Susan burst into a fit of giggles and immediately looked more relaxed. "Yeah because that'll go over well. And she's out and about," she slipped him a sly grin. "She was sneaking out again when I ran into her earlier. Should we tell her we all know her secret?"

"No," he rubbed the back of his neck, at odds with the entire situation. "I think I want to wait for her to come clean. What excuse did she use this time? Going to Ron's?"

"No, erhm, Malfoy Manor," Susie shook her head in amusement. But he caught the discomfort behind her eyes that didn't have anything to do with the tension in her shoulders.

He decided not to press, when she was ready to talk about Malfoy, she'd say so. Instead he kept the subject on Posy. "She's the worst liar, I don't understand."

Pansy and her mother both lied with ease, manipulating words and language to suit their needs, but Posy had the most obvious tell in the world. The very moment she began to tell a lie, her eyes would dart down and her feet would turn inwards. If it wasn't so damn cute, Neville might have said something about it.

Susan opened her mouth to add something more, but from behind her, Connor snuck up and grabbed her in a rough hug. She shrieked when Connor lifted her up in the air, her legs kicking out beneath her flowing dress.

" _Connor Hendrick O'Donnell, if you don't put me down this instant!"_

"Susan Eleanor Bones, the most badass healer witch around," Connor shouted, disturbing all the nearby party goers. Most of the stuffy, older patrons looked less than pleased with Connor's language, but his antics of tossing Susan up in the air like she was a kid had her laughing even as she tried to tell him off.

"Nev - oh - please! Help me!"

"You're determined to be grouchy because you hate attention, but tough shit Susie B, this whole parade is about you and you're going to enjoy yourself!" Connor told her firmly, finally setting her down on her own two feet.

She stumbled away breathless, right into Neville, and he couldn't help bringing up his hands to steady her. Too late, he didn't temper his strength, there wasn't time. But Susan playfully held onto his shoulders, swinging them around to put Nev between her and Connor, the two of them laughing. "Save me, Nev!"

Was he hurting her? He felt in control, maybe he finally figured out how to relax his strength in a casual setting. The hope of that mixed with Susan's huge smile until he felt his own lips turn up in a grin to match. He wrapped his arms around her middle and swung her around in circles.

As gentle as he possibly could.

She shrieked with joy again. "Will you two stop manhandling me! I am supposed to be a respectable Head Healer!"

"Never," Connor laughed, a big booming sound.

Bobbi, coming behind her husband, shook her head with an exasperated eye roll. "My husband, the bear. Will you stop flirting with another woman when I'm standing right here? Can you be at least be decent enough to wait for me to leave the room?"

"Can you just turn your back for a bit, babe? I wouldn't want to put you out. That wouldn't be decent at all," he broke into more booming laughter by the end of his joke. Especially when Bobbi playfully hit his arm.

Their celebration and laughing attracted more people, everyone interested in the woman of the hour. Including an immaculately dressed and perfectly presentable Posy Parkinson turned Lovell. As when he first spotted Susan in her yellow dress, Neville felt his eyes bulging at Posy's formal dress in the same color. The impact was not made less by the sight of her well used backpack hanging over her shoulders.

He just wasn't used to her being so _clean._ Posy was most likely to be found climbing trees, running through their backyard, Full Moon or not, exploring in places she ought not to be exploring.

Getting exceptionally dirty.

Because Pearl didn't let her do such things, things unbecoming of a proper young lady, and Neville didn't give two shits if Posy wanted to dress up and play with dolls or if she wanted to roll around in the dirt. So long as she was happy and safe.

And the relief that she seemed okay after apparently gallivanting around London without a chaperone had him feeling in an even better mood.

"So that's where you've been all day. Probably took you an hour just to brush your hair," he teased as she pushed through the crowd to make her place at the front, her hands clutching the lacy ruffles of her huge yellow skirt. Behind her, Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny all followed. Her entourage.

"Oh Nev, is that you? I hardly recognize you without your grumpy face on," she snapped back, preteen attitude in full force. That signature Parkinson Sass.

A round of chuckles, including his own, made her grin though. She loved the attention, so he crossed his arms and gave it a little more. "How long did the flea bath take? An hour?"

"Did you just make a werewolf joke at me?" Posy turned, reaching into her backpack, and pulled out a magnifying glass. One of those old fashioned ones with a faux silver handle. She marched up to him and peered through the glass with a major look of concern. "Strange, you look like my guardian… but the real Neville Longbottom doesn't have a sense of humor."

Those who knew him best roared with laughter at Posy's well executed joke. Looking perfectly pleased, she grinned for their circle of friends, posing in her pretty gown and magnifying glass. With her clean scrubbed face and hair pulled back, Neville caught something of her profile that reminded him of someone…

Someone he couldn't place, but someone he was sure he knew.

She'd hit a growth spurt during the first month of summer that gave her a few more inches and a little more maturity to her face. But too soon, she turned to face him again and the moment passed.

She reached out and took his hand, coming to stand by him and completing the circle of the most important people in his life. He tried not to imagine her sister standing on his other side and instead focus on Susan. It was her night after all.

"I just wanted to say," Susie began, taking advantage of the opening. "I'm very grateful for all of you, and all you've done for me to get me where I am now. But when I go up there to make my speech, I blame you for this. I finally get a night off and I have to go to a stinking ball."

A round of groans and ' _Oh boo-hoo!_ 's. Laying the sarcasm on thick.

Susie screwed up her face, especially at Posy, before she turned and made her way to the stage. Posy tugged his hand.

"Let's get closer," she whispered excitedly. "I wanna be able to see everything."

"I could put you on my shoulder," he suggested, though his feet obeyed Posy's frantic tugging, pulling him forward. He winked at Ginny as they walked by.

In turn, she reached out and ran fingers through his beard. "Well groomed looks good on you, LB."

"Don't get used to it." He liked the trimmed and brushed look of his beard, having never shaved it down after Pansy grew it out the first time magically. What he didn't enjoy was the effort it took to keep it that way.

He reached down, readying to pick Posy up, but she pushed his hands away.

"Not in this dress, Nev!"

Instead, they made their way straight to the front of the stage, Posy ignoring all the twirling couples in favor of the best view. He said, "5 says it'll be dirty by the end of the night anyways."

"You're on. I'm keeping this baby spotless. It's prettier than anything I own!"

They shook hands.

When a lumpy looking wizard with navy blue robes and a long, dangling hat in the same color walked across the stage, the music died down quite suddenly. But it took the old, hunched man nearly 60 seconds to walk across the long and narrow stage. Up close Neville could see his crooked teeth and wrinkly skin a little too clearly. Once he had the attention of the entire room, he began talking.

In the most monotone, boring voice Neville ever heard before.

"You dragged me up here for this?" he couldn't help whispering to Posy.

"Shh!"

"We can barely hear him…"

Susan walked across the stage then, her posture straight and head held high. A microphone in hand. It took her but a few seconds to cover the same amount of ground.

"Mr. Shafer forgot his microphone," she spoke confidently into the device, giving the crowd a performer's smile.

"Ah yes, thank you, young lady, now I must get back to my speech to honor our Head Healer Bones," Mr. Shafer smiled up at Susie, not realizing who she was.

"What a shit show," Neville heard Ron whisper behind him.

But Susie didn't miss a beat, instead she laughed. "Mr. Shafer, you're so funny. Isn't he?" By including the crowd she managed to coax a few chuckles before she continued. "A round of applause please for Mr. Shafer for making the long trek up here!"

While speaking, she gestured to a tall black man Neville didn't recognize, who immediately came over to escort Mr. Shafer from the stage. Probably Susan's new assistant. "As this benefit is being held in my honor, I thought it only courteous of me to present you with the histories of St. Mungo's myself."

"Well, that's a relief," Posy whispered under her breath, full sass. He loved it so damn much.

Susan managed to erase the awkwardness of Mr. Shafer even though the subject matter, in Neville's opinion, left a lot to be desired. She used the portraits to explain the history of St. Mungo's, starting with Ralf Heymunn, a gifted Healer born in 889, the first to suggest a magical institution.

"It took centuries before Saint Mungo Bonham made a dream into reality, using hard work and determination, he was often heard quoting his friend and colleague, Jullian Willet-Smyth. A Herbologist best known for the invention of a little thing we call Firewhiskey," Susan smiled at the crowd who broke into chuckles. "His motto for life, 'Do for others all that you can and cannot do for yourself'. Something I take to heart."

She said it in a way that invited others to agree, as if saying _don't you?_ Neville caught Posy nodding her head from the corner of his eye.

"1940, Steuan Drust, Head Healer and Auror, convinced the Ministry of Magic not to stand idly by while war raged at our front doors. When the hospital was raided and set ablaze a bare year later, we did not abandon our people. We did not abandon the people who call this country home. St. Mungo's rebuilt and opened its doors to all who needed it."

"What's she saying Neville?" Posy asked in a whisper.

"She's making a dig at all the people who abandoned St. Mungo's after the wolf attack and have the nerve to show up tonight," Neville told her quietly.

Susan gestured to the same man as before, who came across the stage, pushing something covered, an easel on wheels. Posy tugged on his hand, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "What's up, little wolf?"

"Oh you'll see," she smirked at him.

"We have forgotten this lesson. One year ago, patients and staff alike faced a fierce enemy, an enemy we did not have to face if we had remembered to open our doors to those in need, and many lost their lives because of our mistake. I witnessed two patients sacrifice themselves to save others and it is in their name I'd like to rename the Janus Thickey Ward. You came here tonight to present me with an Order of Merlin, and I'd like to present you all with this in return."

With a hard yank, Susie pulled the cover from the easel and revealed a large grey plaque, which all the names of the victims that passed away one year ago were carved into. Memorialized.

And at the top it said: _The Alice and Frank Longbottom Ward._

Posy's bouncing became full jumps, her hand tugging his in excitement. But he looked up and met Susan's eyes, schooling his face to remain as impassive as he could. Otherwise, well Neville was certain he would burst into tears if he didn't keep absolutely still. He could feel everyone in the room turning to look at him, feel his friends behind him, patting his back in support.

And his chest tightened painfully, and yet, he felt a swell of pride unlike any experienced before in his life. One year since his parents passed away, and Susan managed to honor them in such a way he never thought possible, along with all the others who perished in the attack. In a way that meant they wouldn't be remembered as Auror's who lost their minds after being tortured by Death Eater's, or spending the majority of their lives in a mental ward.

Clearing his throat, he nodded to Susie and choked back tears as applause broke out all around. Worse, she just smiled at him, the knowledge that she got him feeling emotional written all over her face. At least she had the decency not to look smug.

Instead, she looked happy.

"This is what history has taught us," Susan continued, once the clapping died down a bit. "To open our doors to those in need. To do for others all that I can. From this point on, St. Mungo's will be open to all who require medical help. Wizards and witches. Muggles."

She paused, and moved her gaze over the crowd, making sure everyone was paying attention. "And wolves."

It was silent for a five long seconds. Then it got very loud, very quick.

oOo

Posy covered her ears as everyone in the room burst into shouts, or maybe cheers, her sensitive ears taking a beating. The lady next to her had a sharp, piercing scream. One that zipped straight into her ear and through her brain like a knife. She didn't have to wait before Neville realized it was far too loud for wolf ears. He scooped her up with one arm and jogged along the edge of the stage, getting her to a hallway that she thought led to some offices.

"Okay?" he mouthed at her, setting down in an empty corner.

Oh, well he probably said the word out loud, but her head spun from the sudden burst of noise that had her ears ringing. Nodding, she leaned into the wall and closed her eyes, hands still covering her ears, hoping she wasn't about to hurl on Nev.

That would be super embarrassing.

She didn't think she could ever live it down if she puked on him. He'd use it as ammunition most definitely. Like could she please oh please get that jug of cream soda? And he'd say, remember when you puked on my suit at Susie's ball?

Posy pulled her hands away from her ears when she felt something sticky wet on her fingers, holding them out to see. Blood, as she expected. Her eardrums probably burst.

She glanced up quickly, caught the look of anger on Nev's face. "It's fine!"

"Fucking hell, it is not," his words were muffled, but never one to hesitate, he pulled his wand from some unseen place in his suit jacket and started casting a spell.

And Posy wouldn't dare miss a chance to watch _real_ , actual magic happening. She'd seen large batches of Glimmer get made night after night, seen wolves transform under the moon. Both undoubtedly magic.

But this…

If he spoke out loud, she missed it when a cool stream of green magic, deep and sparkling, poured from the tip of his wand and wound its way through the air, dipping and darting like a snake until it slipped into her ears.

Air rushed as if being sucked quickly into those ears before her hearing cleared right up. She tried to hide her awe, but … _wow._ "Thanks, Nev."

"Better?" he asked, checking around them as he hid his wand. "Who was standing next to you, I'll-"

"No, it wasn't that. It was the whole shebang, way too loud."

He stood and gave her a stern look. But he only said, "I need to help contain the crowd."

"I'll stay here until it calms down."

He gave her a look as if to say 'Yeah right' before heading back into the main ballroom. From her position in the hallway, Posy could see Susie, still on stage. Calm and cool and collected, a small smile on her face even as the crowd before her yelled and got rowdy. It made Posy sad.

People didn't understand her kind, their gut reaction fear. Susan was in the right. Wolves would be much better behaved if they had access to healthcare and wolfsbane potions. She couldn't help leaning out and yelling, "YOU'RE RUINING SUSAN'S NIGHT YOU WAMBOS!" Though she was certain no one could hear her at all. Except for the Auror that stood guard by the hallway Neville brought her too.

Natasha gave her a small wink and a wave but didn't leave her post.

And Neville's big moment! Posy suggested Susie name the hospital after him, but even she could admit Susan came up with a way better idea. Renaming the ward his parents had been in when they died? She turned on her toe, suddenly feeling quite upset with everyone and stomped down the hallway and into the far room, shutting the door behind her with a hard slam.

Maybe she felt more upset than she let Neville believe. Watching him do magic, actually casting with a wand, made her forget that she spent all day missing her sister and sad about Hal, feeling mad at Neville and yet also feeling badly for him.

She missed her Papa so much. The day he died, Theo had taken her into the gardens and pointed out all the little bugs and critters that lived in the plants and trees. To distract her. He even sang to her and Posy laughed because Theo _could_ not sing one bit. Not like her sister could.

But she had all these memories to keep her warm when she thought of her Papa. Him with in black and silver robes, the pipe that always smelled like sweet mint, and always being naughty, sneaking chocolates when her Mama wasn't looking. Letting Posy stay up late on special occasions. What did Neville have? Susie found a great way to give Neville a warm memory and these people were acting like jerks!

Posy quickly wiped at her face, surprised to feel the hot tears there. She tried not to cry in front of Neville, it made him awfully uncomfortable. But now she was alone. She could cry all she wanted to.

And cry she did, until her throat felt scratchy and her eyes hurt. She cried for Hal and for Pansy both, for Susie and for Neville. For feeling so lonely, even though Nev always did his best to make sure she wasn't ever left alone or in need. She hated to get her pretty yellow dress dirty, but she didn't have a tissue, so she used a corner of the ruffled sleeve to wipe the snot away from her face and nose.

Then she finally took a look around, realizing she should have done that first. Nev would be disappointed she didn't make sure her surroundings were safe right away, all the hours spent drilling and training felt like a huge waste right then. "I'll do better next time," she promised herself.

The room was completely dark, except that wasn't a problem for Posy. She could see just fine without light thanks to her wolf. Across the room, on a tall wooden pedestal, sat a giant plant. All leafy and bouncy in its tub of water. It ranged all the way up to the ceiling, a monster size for such a delicate and pretty plant.

She stepped forward to get a closer look.

And suddenly she felt a warm hug all around her, her tears melting away. A soft breeze went through her combed hair and on it floated words of the song her Papa used to sing to her, but it wasn't Tarrant's smooth voice Posy heard.

It was Pansy's.

The longer she stood there, listening to her big sister sing Wild Horses, the calmer she felt. The wolf completely retreated to the back of her mind for the first time in… for the first time, leaving Posy feeling almost human.

Yawning, tasting chocolate cake, smelling mint. "I miss you," she said, kneeling down and laying on the floor, not sure who she spoke too. Then she fell right to sleep.

oOo

Neville held the crowd back from the stage fairly easily. Most people recognized him right away and didn't bother trying to push forward, but the people behind them, the ones who were still focused on Susan, tried to push ahead. Wolves were, and had been, a political hot topic for years. Ever since the beginning of the epidemic.

Half the crowd was cheering though, he realized as he sent people away. Nearly everyone these days had a family member or friend who was a wolf, who thought that after the end of Glimmer things could simmer down with The Ministry.

Wolf violence was at an all time low since Glim went kapow. Yet The Ministry still defined them as Dangerous Creatures, with no rights, and only executions should they be implicated in a violent crime.

Neville knew, despite taking time off to be with Posy, that the quiet would not last.

All along the stage his fellow Aurors did the same. And he recognized this for what it was. A wolf tactic. It only took one or two people in the very back to start the rush if they knew what they were doing. The crowd would try to push forward, diverting attention.

He'd read about it before, but witnessed it for himself at Club Dread. Not wasting time, he stepped up onto the stage behind him, trying to get above the noise. Susan glanced over curiously, not phased one bit at the controversity. "Get out of here," he told her firmly before he looked towards the back wall, narrowing his eyes in search.

People tried to push forward again, like a giant wave, shouting out different things like 'You can do it Bones!' or 'Wolves should be _excluded!'_ or ' _Lock those animals up!'._

But Neville found what he was looking for almost immediately. He jumped down and started pushing people out the way, making his way across the ballroom to the side door. A lone man, wearing a black on black suit stood in front of the beaten glass, his gait pure wolf. He met Neville's gaze, then reached into his jacket quickly.

Pulled out a handgun.

And shot directly at Susan.

 _Shit!_ Neville turned, hand already reaching into his pocket for his wand. " _Protego!"_

Just as before, when he healed Posy's battered ears, The _Dolce Mela_ filled him with a cool magic that aided his wand. A shield burst into being around Susan, who as usual didn't listen when he'd told her to get off the stage, disintegrating the bullet before it had a chance to harm her.

He turned back around, ready to disarm the shooter and make sure there wasn't any more danger. Though all around him people gasped at his effortless display of Magic and the mood turned serious in the blink of an eye, he could only focus on the threat.

The wolf, who turned the gun on himself. And pulled the trigger. Neville raised his wand to stop it but tripped up on his shoes when a couple smelling of too much champagne bumped into him. His wand flew out of his wand and bounced out of sight, disappearing into the crowd.

"Damnit!" he shouted, pushing more people out of his way. He came to the fallen wolf and dropped to his knees, taking the gun and handing it to Harry, who ran up behind him. Ron was right.

This was a shit show.

"How did he get through security with a gun?" Neville snapped the question, angry that Susan could have potentially been very hurt. He looked around, searching for any other threats. Why one wolf? Why the suicide? To give bad press to St. Mungo's, or Susan?

"I'll find out," Harry promised.

But then Neville realized with a painful thump of his heart. "It's a distraction. Get people out of here," he told Harry. Then he ran for Posy.

* * *

I hope you are all ready for Pansy's return... next chapter. :D


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N:** I have some trigger warnings for you. Violence, blood, murder. This chapter is fairly heavy, be warned. Enjoy :)

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty Seven**

(Parkinson vs Longbottom, Round: 2,142...?)

 **10 Months Ago**

"Promise me you'll make it out of this."

She met the bright eyes of her tough-as-nails sister and did the one thing she was best at. "I promise, Sister."

A lie. There was no way out for her this time.

But Posy nodded, her eyes still leaden with tears. A little wolf who went through hell. She knelt down and threaded Neville's limp arm through her own, a dull-eyed Marcus crouching down beside them. He knew this was his only chance to get away from Pearl. Once the three were connected, Posy suffered through the agony of moving her broken wrist to push the emerald set in the pendant of Pansy's necklace.

Too caught up in watching her sister, afraid of Pearl returning at any moment to ruin their grand escape, and afraid magic was gone too far from the world for her necklace to work, Pansy forgot to take a final look at Neville. Though it might have been for the best. She was quite angry with him.

The three of them disappeared with the portkey, leaving an aching emptiness in the room, and this twisting knot of fear and anger that she might never see him again.

He lied to her.

And she couldn't understand why. Maybe he didn't understand her ploy, her goal in tricking Pearl. Pansy thought he did, thought he was playing along. Maybe he didn't understand her as well as she thought he did and that hurt her heart.

But… Maybe going through Pearl's torture made him realize she wasn't worth his loyalty. Pain did that to people.

The end result was still the same.

Because she was out of tricks and backed into a corner she couldn't get out from, with Pearl pissed off more than enough. A smile spread across her face, though. Because Posy was finally out of danger. No matter what happened to her, her sister would be safe.

The door opened and flooded the room with light, while above her the fighting continued. Pearl stood, tense, and angry as Pansy expected. Her hands were on her head as she walked forward. And behind her, Ellis Vistain stood with a sleek black pistol in his hand. Pressed into Pearl's back threateningly.

Pansy wanted to tell her mother how easy it was to get away from a man who held a gun so close, as Vistain did. Guns were better used at a distance. Close up was a mistake.

Of course, she also hoped for Vistain to shoot Pearl right in the back and end everyone's suffering.

"This is going far better than I expected, ladies," he told them pleasantly, two other wolves following him into the room. Unlike Pearl's wolves, these were sharp on their feet with eyes unclouded by Glim use. Their loyalty to Vistain given not out of compulsion, but because Ellis was the biggest, baddest Alpha wolf in town and wolves respected nothing more than strength.

Worse, Vistain didn't seem worried about the storm of Aurors above them in the least. "I expected to have to fight to get Pearl under control. But here I find her in a panic and Ms. Parkinson as well, all tied up like a present."

Fear had her mouth moving. "Christ, Mother, what the hell is he doing here?"

"He's angry at me for what I've done to little David Rowe, his number one Glim pusher," Pearl stumbled when Vistain pushed her roughly forward. But she came up gracefully and smirked down at Pansy. "He's angry at you as well, daughter. After all, you're the one that blew up the product."

"All of it?" Vistain's eyebrow rose, the only sign of his annoyance. "Surely you have some secret stash, secretly stashed away?"

" _That was_ my secret stash," Pearl's lips thinned in anger. And eyes full of worry. Pansy wished she could enjoy it. Instead, the two wolves, a woman and a man, Vistain brought with him pulled her up to her feet and held her still. So convenient she was already tied up for them.

They dragged her forward though she attempted to get free, throwing all her weight to the left, trying to throw them off balance. But two wolves definitely had the advantage over her no matter what she did. She struggled ungracefully as they dropped her at Vistain's feet. And she couldn't get free.

"Oops," she smiled, though her insides were trembling. "No more Glim? Does that mean you lose your iron fist over the wolves, Ellie?"

Vistain's eyes flashed in anger, her nickname a dangerous gamble but she couldn't help it. When she got scared, her mouth disconnected from her brain. "It means I'm going to put a muzzle on you, Ms. Parkinson. I'm going to string you up and watch the families whip you for your insolence."

"Ooo, daddy, have I been bad?"

Fear had her mouth chattering when she should have shut up.

"Pansalina-" Pearl warned.

"Silence, both of you," Vistain gestured to his goons. "I'd hate to have to shoot you. I have such plans."

Pansy's mouth opened, but lackey number one shoved a gag in immediately. And real fear set in. She threw all her weight forward, trying to shake off lackey number two, managed to wrench the rope from his hand for a bare second.

Vistain didn't waste time with the gun. He handed it off to lackey number one and grabbed Pansy by the back of her head, bringing her face first into the wall with all the strength of an alpha wolf.

Her vision split as her head rang and she went to her knees, drool gathering around the cloth gag in her mouth. Vistain came in close, increasing his hold on her skull, his fingers as harsh and unwelcome as he. "Oh, how I am going to enjoy the next few months, Ms. Parkinson."

His breath hot against her ear.

"And I get two for the price of one, mother and daughter," Vistain's voice dropped to a whisper, savoring her sharp breaths. He pressed his nose into the drip of blood of that fell from her forehead. "Where is your Auror friend to protect you now, Ms. Parkinson? Doesn't he know the things I'm going to do to you?"

His fingers spread through her hair, tilting her head towards him, a tongue reaching out and licking at her blood. He took a savory breath in. "Oh how I enjoy those murderous eyes of yours," he grinned maniacally, his wolf peeking through, turning his usual brown eyes to amber. "I hope it takes a very long time to break you."

 **2 Months Ago**

The collar made it difficult to think, but she knew the two wolves dragging her bruised and overworked body to the dungeon. Timothy and… Henry? No, that's Hal's real name. Oh, Hal. She wished he was here, he would help her, if he was able. Maybe… Harry? No no, the only Harry she knew was far to famous and recognizable to be some wolf lackey.

Pansy wondered how Harry Potter was doing these days. Still running the Auror Department with that blonde bitch? Did they realize the war going on with the wolves? The countless, unnecessary deaths? She peeked up at her escorts.

They, like her, had made a tough decision when she blew up that Glimmer and started a war between wolf and wizard. Join the pack, or die.

Maybe not so tough a decision after all. Though apparently magic was on the outs. So what did that make her? Witch? Or plain human? She always hung on tight to the title Spellthief.

A bounty hunter, tracking down magical trinkets and scrolls and texts, stealing them away for a pretty piece of coin. Maybe beating up a stray Auror or two. Except now, she certainly wasn't doing either of those things, her life having taken a much darker turn.

One was named Timothy, she was pretty sure. The other… she'd have to think on it because at that moment, her mind was as cloudy as her lip bloody and her ribcage battered. Oh, she already had this train of thought. Her own mind had become a minefield and well…

Another round in the pit gave her several knocks to her head but another victory meant she continued to fight another day. The Pit was nothing compared to the week she spent in Spain. She could fight all day. Fear was the real killer.

The silent lackeys snapped the chains around her wrists and ankles and left her to fall into the wall. Believe it or not, the position had become comfortable.

She counted to three as they disappeared through the same doorway.

"Happy Birthday, Pansy," Pearl drawled slowly from her own chained position across the dark room, water dripping somewhere in the distance. The dungeon perfect. It was dank, damp, and dark. No better dungeon existed. And never would her mother allow her a moment of damn silence.

"I'm shocked you even remember," Pansy spit blood on the floor between them. Not that she could see it, it would take another half hour or so for her eyesight to fully adjust to the oppressing darkness of her master's dungeon. The only source of light came from the tiniest of openings from the door she just came through.

A tease of light.

"Of course a mother remembers her child's birthdate."

Somehow, the darkness made Pearl's tone of voice even more haughty than usual.

"So," Pansy groaned readying to go a few verbal rounds. "What did you get me?"

The real shock was that Pearl knew the date, if it really was Pansy's birthday then it had been eight months since Vistain took them. But it had been enough time that her and Pearl's hostility had loosened several notches. They weren't bonding, god no. Nothing so impossible.

But a little banter kept the spirits up while being held captive by a sadistic wolf.

"I wouldn't have even if I could," Pearl's intonation the definition of apathy.

"Our forced time spent together is gift enough, I suppose," Pansy attempted for the thousandth time to pull at her chains and see if one might shake loose, a million and one plans running through her head. It all depended on the situation, but should the right moment arise, she would be ready. Be prepared.

To play her cards just right.

None of the commands so far had been _don't escape_ , so the option was still available to her. Of course, she thought that meant they just wanted to see if she _could_ , it's what Sera had done to her _._ It's what she would do, anyways.

Damn collar was different than being compelled by Glim. She was starting to have difficulty differentiating between what were her thoughts and what were Vistain's commands. Strange how she could almost feel her mind beginning to fragment.

Good thing he only had the one.

"What would you be doing if you were free to celebrate your birthday?" Pearl asked, sounding bored. Too much isolation had loosened her tongue considerably.

Pansy could just make out the lumpy form of her mother, sitting in the corner, smelling like piss and sweat and shit. Unlike her daughter, she did not get the chance to leave the dungeon much. A mercy for the world. Torture for Pansy.

"Probably crying over Theo's grave," Pansy copied Pearl's drawl perfectly. Sometimes she brought up Theo, it was the obvious choice. But on a few occasions, Pansy managed to bring up David Rowe. And how Pearl used Glimmer to compel the wolf to do an unspeakable thing to her.

She did it to remind her mother that, when the day came, when Pansy escaped this dark dungeon, she would not be taking Pearl with her even if she had the chance to.

Pansy would leave her in this awful place to rot for the awful things she'd done, simple as that, no matter how many times the promise she made to her father played through her head.

But her venom did not come from her suffering. Oh no. That came from the woman she shared a cage with, embedded in her genes from day one. "He cried before he died," Pearl reminded her, her voice pure, ringing like a bell despite dehydration, and she sounded all the more vicious for it. "So many regrets your lover had, he told me so many of them. Theodore was chatty compared to the new one."

"Oh _maman_ ," Pansy switched to French with her Mother. A little game they played to pass the time. "He can open up if you know how to work him properly," she purposely goaded Pearl, knowing it bothered her that she hadn't been able to finish Longbottom off. At least, as far as either of them knew, Posy, Neville, and Marcus all escaped the night the two of them were taken by Vistain.

She wanted to believe Neville made it out alive, that whatever torture he endured at Pearl's hands hadn't left him dead in the end. But she learned long ago that hopeful dreams wouldn't get her out of this situation. Better to push all thoughts of her favorite Auror into a corner of her mind, where it couldn't distract.

Pearl made a strange clucking sound with her tongue, likely wanting to make some crack about how loose Pansy acted with her lovers. But she held back.

Because she'd done the same thing to get Posy.

Instead, Pearl dove into a rapid fire of French. Going off for the hundredth time about how much Neville Longbottom _screamed_ when she introduced Glimmer to his system. And how pretty his skin had lit up as the magic boiled his blood. "He's dead," her mother taunted. "No one could survive that."

Pansy responded in Italian, since they were doing Romantic languages this time. And she loved the language the most anyways. "Papa always loved me more than you, how does that feel?"

"Feels like he died not knowing how I betrayed our wedding vows and he raised a child that wasn't his," Pearl grinned. Pansy could make it out now, her eyes adjusting to the darkness finally.

"Only you would brag about fucking around on your husband."

"At least I was married."

Like it's some kind of achievement.

"Oh, goodie," Pansy rolled her eyes. "Let's fall back on the oldest argument of all time. That I didn't marry god damn Theodore Nott."

"We should talk about how we're getting out of here," Pearl admonished, as if Pansy had done something naughty. And was four years old.

"We?" Pansy laughed. "I'd rather be stuck here than let you loose on the public ever again. I wonder how well Posy is doing now that you're not around to control and manipulate her every move."

"I'm sure she ended up with that horrible woman. Narcissa Malfoy, she thinks she's God's gift to the world."

"Yes, probably. I'm good friends with the Malfoy's and they have an abundance of wealth and power. But you know the worst part? They might actually care about Posy's well being. How horrible." She switched back to English. "Shut up now, Mother."

She tuned out Pearl as best she could, exhaustion hitting hard. Eyes closed, she leaned her head back, going to the cloudy, quiet place in her mind created by long term exposure of the silver metal around her neck. The magic strange and somehow earthy.

Fae. It was Fae Magic.

The place where she could see a rope of garland, a string of Christmas lights wrapped in the green. The garland looked to be shredded, barely hanging on by a thread.

Her will. Not so iron after all. Set against a cloudy backdrop that offered no hope.

Where she dreamed of a man with hard, dark eyes that could sometimes be kind, and was probably dead. There were a few things she could remember quite clearly.

The knife Tony gave her one year, that she in turn gave to Posy. The one used to kill Theodore. The image of the forget-me-knots on the hilt seemed embedded in her mind.

She dreamed of yellow dahlias, to go along with that dagger.

And more often than not she could remember the sound of Neville Longbottom screaming over the phone, a horrific sound that no matter what she did, she could not shove into that little box in the corner of her mind where the rest of her memories of him went.

The first few nights of captivity Pansy spent her dreams imagining Longbottom busting through the door, knuckles bunched, blood on his lip, pissed off and rescuing her.

Despite what she did to him.

The dream always ended with her somehow rescuing him at the end, riding off together with Posy, maybe to her villa in Tuscany or somewhere completely new. A sweet dream, every once in awhile, was harmless.

Every night however… it was a curse. Hope a demon clawing its hooks deeper and deeper. And she certainly didn't need some man to come and rescue her. So she switched to planning and her favorite Auror went into a dark corner of her mind, a little box she couldn't access even if she tried. The silver on her neck made it possible.

The situation she needed happened several days, or weeks, later. When her master came before her and grabbed her chin, shining a light into her face to blind her. "You did well in the pit today, Ms. Parkinson."

"I live to serve," she mumbled, rising to a shaky stand. Purposely putting her body close to his. "I could live to do more, you know, the collar," she exposed her neck, and the silver there. "It leaves me wanting."

"That isn't its function." But he smiled, leaning in close.

"No, it makes me compliant, it bends my will," she licked her dry lips. "As you well know, I'll do _anything_ you ask me to do."

"Don't make me get the muzzle, Ms. Parkinson." But Vistain enjoyed her simpering. Enjoyed having her at his mercy.

"No, that's not what you want," Pansy pouted, pretended to think for a second. Ellis Vistain wasn't much interested in getting down and dirty with women, except the closer he got to the Full Moon nights. But he did enjoy when she dished out violence in the pit. "You don't want me…. _Compliant._ "

"She's just trying to manipulate you," Pearl informed Ellis in a bored tone. "Badly, I might add."

"My Mother is right," Pansy shrugged, the chains clanking against the stone. "I'm fucking _boooorreedd_. Chained up all the time in this dark, overcrowded toilet. It's obvious from my magic what I'm meant to do in this life, Ellie."

Kill people. Be the assassin she tried to leave behind in Rome. She continued, the truth in every single one of her words. Commands in fragments in her thoughts. "Use me. I don't care where I'm killing people, and you're the dominant power here now."

Because she killed Sean Barton.

Then she killed his father.

Then she killed Matthias Fawley.

And the wolves were scrambling.

Vistain reached out, ran a finger over the silver of her collar, even though the metal burned at his skin. Over the months, he had, not softened, but grown quite familiar with her. Intimately. "I worry about that delicate human nature though."

The money she earned him by fighting in the pit meant she was too important to lose? It was the clearest thought she'd had in awhile. She lowered her own voice, made it breathy. "You can't afford to lose me, Ellie. I need to be stronger."

And she knew exactly how to do that… without becoming a wolf.

oOo

Most people didn't know to be afraid of a gunshot, staring instead at the wolf who was surely now missing a pulse. Neville ignored their confused stares and rushed by Natasha, a fellow Auror who kept her head about her when the gun went off and stayed at her post instead of running off. "Anyone came through here?" he asked her in a sharp voice.

Truly, he was just trying to keep his cool.

"No, only your girl earlier," she said. The woman held her wand in her hand like she hadn't in awhile, giving him a peculiar look. No doubt wondering how exactly he cast a spell.

Neville didn't bother to comment on that look, instead flying through the hallway, punching doors open as quickly as he could. Not in the least bit surprised Posy wasn't where he left her. Dark empty offices greeted him until he reached the last door, the room he knew The Fern was kept in. The door flew off its hinges though he barely touched it.

Posy lay on the floor. Neville could just see her poofy yellow dress behind Pearl. Who knelt down on the floor, her ball gown a deep blue, brushing her fingers over Posy's hair. Panic invaded every bit of his body and mind, his muscles remembering the agony this woman served him. "Pearl!"

Between one blink and the next, he found himself across the room yanking her off the ground. He heard bone pop as he spun her to face him.

"Neville?"

"I-I'm so sorry," he mumbled, setting a now equally panicked Lou back on her feet, seeing her hummingbird tattoo up close. She stumbled away, looking as shaky as he felt, holding her arm to her body. "Lou, I apologize I thought you were… someone else…"

"Clearly," she said dryly, her hostile gaze reminding him so much of Bobbi. "I think you did something to my shoulder."

Neville reached down to check on Posy, found her breathing evenly though her eyes remained shut in sleep. "What happened? Did you see?"

Lou backed up into the far corner still holding her arm. Neville felt horrible for having harmed her but Lou kept her hair much like Spencer and Bobbi did. Long and wavy, in the same bright shade of yellow. From behind she looked exactly like Pearl.

"Um," Lou took a shaky breath, obviously in pain. "No, I found her like that. She's asleep. I don't think she's hurt."

Rising, Neville approached Lou slowly. "Please know I'm sorry, I thought she was in danger." He thought the wolf was a distraction for him. So Pearl could get to Posy. Becoming a Guardian had made him paranoid. "I can heal that if you'd like."

"Yeah? You can do magic all the sudden?" Lou laughed wobbly. "You just wrenched my arm a bit, I'll be fine. You are very strong, did you know?"

Fully aware, Neville brought out his wand anyways. From the way her shoulder sloped downward he could tell it was dislocated, and he was the one that did the damage. He would be the one to fix it, it was only right. "Stay still."

For the third time that night, he did magic, and in front of yet another person. So much for trying to keep his secret weapon on the down low. Lou watched in fascination as magic corrected her shoulder painlessly, popping the bone back into the proper socket. "Yet they task me with finding out why magic doesn't work, they should be asking those rare individuals who can still do magic in my opinion."

Running a hand over her bare shoulder, to make sure his magic was sound, he tried to think of something to dissuade her from mentioning him at all to the taskforce. He could do magic for a very specific reason, one that needed to be kept secret to keep Posy, and himself, safe.

"The Conservatory sits on a magical hotspot, did you know?" he withdrew his hand and leveled what he hoped was a neutral smile on Lou, who seemed better. "I've never had much trouble casting when I'm here."

"Is that so?" Lou ran her fingers over her gown in a calming motion. "Good news for me, I guess. I'm just going to…"

She gestured to the door before she left, giving him an awkward smile. Great. _Just_ great. Guilt rolled ugly and angry in his gut, knowing he would hear about this from Bobbi. He should have checked before assuming it was Pearl, before he put his hands on another woman. He might have seriously hurt her.

He was such a goddamn asshole.

Bending down, he picked up Posy and held her gently, sick of the violence and pain he was capable of. He waited to see if she would wake up, long enough that the magical aura of The Fern began to calm his racing pulse and resettle him. Long enough that he started to hear the faintest trace of an unfamiliar lullaby.

Damn plant. He headed out, back towards the quickly dispersing ball. Happy to see the Aurors had taken quick control of the situation.

"Is she hurt, Nev?" Susan approached him the moment he stepped into the ballroom.

"No, I think The Fern put her to sleep. Any other trouble out here?"

She shook her head. "Why me? Why shoot at me?"

"I thought, I thought it might've been Pearl, trying to get to Posy," he admitted in a soft voice, watching people leave through the side door. People, as usual, giving him a curious look. On the other side of the room, reporters were going nuts, clicking away at their cameras.

"An attempt to discredit the hospital? Or the Aurors maybe," Susan put a hand over her cheek. "I almost feel responsible."

"Don't, you're not accountable for the actions of others," he started but stopped when his phone started going off.

His wasn't the only one.

oOo

Neville stepped through the Floo into the Atrium at the Ministry of Magic on booted feet, the only article of clothing he deemed necessary to change. He could fight in his suit, it was fitted. He couldn't fight in those ridiculous dress shoes that slipped on every surface and managed to constantly have a loose tie. Behind him Bobbi and Connor followed suit, neither of them having the chance to change either. There wasn't time.

The Minister was in trouble.

Bobbi had her trusty battle axe gripped steady in one hand, comically clashing with the red silk of her formal dress and Connor had a steel gray pistol Neville knew once belonged to his friend's grandpop back in the day. The three of them went through the Atrium entrance while Harry and Ron took a team through the street entrance.

"Damn," Connor said from behind him. And Neville agreed.

The bright blue ceiling looked to have giant blast marks everywhere he looked and glass covered the usually polished dark wood floor. Each fireplace but for the one they came through seemed to be caved in with wooden boards and debris, more blast marks in evidence.

And graffiti on the walls in blaring red spray paint were the words ' _WOLVES AREN'T FRIENDS'_.

His stomach dropped. Tomorrow was the first Full Moon night and there hadn't been even a hint of wolf violence in months. Maybe the wolf back at The Conservatory _was_ a distraction, as he originally thought. Only it wasn't to distract Neville, but the entire Auror Department as a whole.

"Who was working security tonight?" Neville asked in a whisper as the three of them slowly walked down the hallway towards the golden gates. He took the lead, with Bobbi between them. Connor watched their backs. They stepped over giant chunks of blackened gold.

The Fountain of Magical Brethren had been obliterated.

Where it once stood instead was a giant crater of stone and wood and dust. "Careful," Neville couldn't help but hold out a hand for Bobbi when she stumbled behind him.

"Avery," Bobbi answered, sounding pissed off. Her fingers tightened around his. "Morgan. And Humphries."

"Bastards waited until we were all at the damn ball," Connor whispered back to them.

Not entirely a bad thing, Neville thought. Most of the staff would have left for the day, meaning they got out of harm's way when the vandals showed up. But this wasn't some kids joking around, having a laugh. Real, permanent damage had been done here.

 _Wolves_ had done damage here. And wolves could be rowdy.

Connor took Bobbi's hand from him, and Neville stepped forward, towards the gates, searching for their people. He was the only one that could do magic easily.

"There," Bobbi rushed forward and started clearing debris from around the gate.

Both him and Connor dropped to their knees and helped her, spotting immediately what Bobbi saw first. Avery, buried under the rumble. But his eyes were open, if a bit unfocused.

"Avery! Stay with me you self-serving bastard. I didn't make you an Auror just so you could die on the job," Bobbi barked out the words, trying to keep the man conscious as they unburied him.

"You're a real bitch, O'Donnell," Avery coughed up, his light hair dirty with dust. "Go, help the rest, upstairs."

"What level?" Neville demanded. "How many?"

"At least 20," Avery coughed again, this time from deep in his lungs. "Stormed the Atrium before we realized, they spread out and took the elevators. Dunno where they all went…"

"Harry's team is coming in through the street entrance," Bobbi said, taking charge. "We clear each floor, floor by floor, until we reach the bottom."

"It'll take too long," Neville shook his head.

"We split up," both him and Bobbi said it at the same time.

"You two stay together," Neville added, knowing he'd be fine alone.

Plan made, they left Avery alone after he insisted he'd be fine and Neville took the elevator to the top floor. The Atrium was on the 8th level, below that the Department of Mysteries. Bobbi and Connor got off on the 7th so they could work their way up as he went downward.

The moment the elevator stopped with a rickety groan, Neville walked into hell. The Minister's offices had been ransacked, desks overturned, papers littered everywhere. Flickering lights allowed him to see blood stains and places in the drywall where something heavy had collided. He knelt down beside the woman he recognized as Minister Shacklebolt's personal assistant.

No pulse.

Not just vandals then. An attack. On the St. Mungo's anniversary. This wasn't going to be good.

Wand out, he quietly made his way to the main office where Kinglsey Shacklebolt called from earlier. Carefully stepping over more bodies as he went, a painful knot forming in his gut. He kept his focus on staying quiet, listening to the strange silence of the usually loud and bustling office. Watching for any movement.

He cleared the entire level, but found no trace of the Minister, nor anyone alive either, before taking the stairs down to the next. He found more of the same. Magical Law Enforcement had moved out from this level when Harry moved it to The Offices, and the legal team had moved in.

Hermione's office was on this level, so he was pretty familiar with the layout. He took the stairs to avoid making more noise than necessary, but the doorway seemed blocked when he tried the handle. Instead of pushing in, and disturbing whatever lay on the other side, he pulled.

The door came off the hinges with little effort. On the floor he found a lump of bodies, making his stomach tight. He checked to see if anyone was still breathing, but found only lifeless and bloody bodies of men and women in their work attire. Most of them he knew. Across the way, on the wall, was more graffiti reminding him of exactly who came through here. And down the hall, lying on his side, Neville spotted the Minister.

Shit.

He took quick steps, though making sure to keep an ever watchful eye out for any movement at all. The likelihood of getting out of this without confrontation was getting slimmer and slimmer as the bodies piled up. He reached Kinglsey and checked for a pulse.

A quick hand wrapped around his wrist."Longbottom?"

"Sir," Neville helped him up to a sit. "What happened?"

Sweat and blood dripped from his forehead, a giant gash right over his dark eyebrow. "Got ambushed, there were too many. I'm too old for this, especially without a wand."

"I'm sure you took out a few even without it," Neville talked to distract, checking for any other injuries.

"Here," Kinglsey lifted his shirt, revealing a stab wound in his abdomen. "They were all wolves, mad, so mad, looking for someone to blame for the Wizengamot ruling. Heard one say something about Ellis Vistain."

Neville immediately recalled the wolf that came to his office months and months ago. The one who scared Pansy so badly she hid behind him. But Kinglsey continued. "But this one," he gestured to his wound as Neville channeled healing magic into it. It felt cool and presented itself in shades of blues and greens, the magic coming from the diamond.

Not himself.

"This one wasn't wolf," Kingsley moaned as Neville continued to heal him. "Small. Quick. And strong. Strong like you. Not wolf strong. He didn't move like a wolf and he-he summoned his sword to him."

The person from the Azkaban recording? That could be a problem if someone so powerful was working with the wolves. Who the hell was this guy? "Was he cloaked? Black cloak?"

"Yes," Kingsley nodded before groaning out loud. "I heard you could still do magic."

"If you live, maybe we could keep that between us, sir?"

"If I live," the man smiled, though clearly in pain, and Neville felt himself returning the gesture. "They were roaming as a pack, working their way downstairs. Did you bring back up?"

He told him about Bobbi and Connor, and Harry coming in with a separate team. "I can carry you out of here, sir."

"Drop the sir, Longbottom, you've seen me without my damn shirt now. No need to be so formal."

"All the same to you, Minister," Neville said pointedly. "I can carry you."

But Kingsley shook his head right away. "No no, they were working their way downstairs, not even ten minutes ago. I'm safe enough and you should go help Harry. He's going to need you."

The lights flickered again before out for good. Neville pulled his phone out, turned the flashlight on. "Here, take this."

Then he picked up Kingsley and carried him down the hallway, and into Hermione's office. "Message Healer Bones, let her know where you are. I'll barricade the door."

Kingsley put himself in the corner, cradling his stomach with his hands. Still groaning, but out of immediate danger. "Stay alive, Longbottom. And watch out for the cloaked one. He's quicker than anyone I've ever seen. His sword doesn't slow him down."

Heart thumping with adrenaline, Neville broke the handle on the door before he left, bending it out of shape, making it harder to open the door from the outside. And he wondered how fast this mystery man was compared to Pansy. He could, on a good day, hold up against her speed. But any faster than that and he was in trouble.

On the next level, Neville stepped through the stairwell door and into an all out brawl. He could hear the sounds of a fight, flesh hitting flesh, grunts and gasps for air. And through the darkness, he could spot glowing amber eyes. Several pairs of them.

Someone collided into him and it sent him rolling back, his wand falling away. But he was better with his hands anyways. He rolled up onto his feet, thankful he'd taken the extra minute to change into his boots, and grabbed onto the one who bumped him, knocking the snarling man out with a precise hit to the head.

A gunshot went off in the background. Another rushed towards him, his eyes glowing in the dark. He pushed the knocked out wolf into his attacker with enough force to send them flying across the room, disappearing into darkness.

He heard the slash of a weapon through the air, turned and caught Bobbi just about to smash him in the back of the head. "Neville!"

"Are you okay?" he let her go and turned to grab at another attacker again, who charged viciously, bloody hands out grabbing for anything he could. Neville hit him in the jaw as hard as he could, watching as the wolf fell to the ground. Unconscious if not dead.

"No, Connor is in trouble."

She turned on her toe, red dress swishing through the air, and ran the opposite direction of the stairwell. Neville followed, taking out two more wolves along the way. They burst through a set of double doors, and came into a room where a fire had been lit in the middle. A crowded pile of desks and chairs feeding the flame.

Neville kicked Connor's gun across the floor as he ran over to the fighting, grabbing onto the jacket of a wolf that had partially shifted, claws swiping dangerously close to Connor's face.

Bobbi shouted out, "Connor!"

"I'm fine, love!" he called back and twisted around, going in for more. Bobbi lined up with his back and they continued fighting.

Across the room, Harry and his team burst through the opposite doors. Ron held a megawatt flashlight, brightening up the room with a harsh blue glow. Enough that Neville caught the black cloaked figure moving around the room, in the corner.

He rushed after him, the unknown. The video would be enough to give Neville caution against this man. Strong enough to lift a grown man by the throat, magical enough to summon a hefty sword from thin air, and powerful enough to scare even the Minister of Magic. He needed to be caught, and Neville was the only one who stood a chance.

Somewhere behind him, Ron lost his flashlight, the blue spinning across the walls before it disappeared altogether. The fire light played over the cloak as the figure jumped through the air. And Neville's breath caught as he skidded to a stop, his eyes going straight to _her boots._ Pirate boots.

Like a ballerina, she flew through the air gracefully, over the raging fire, over debris and overturned desks and wolves fighting. Landing just beside Neville as the two pronged sword grew from the palm of her gloved hand. It swung down lethally, his heart jumping as he readied himself to be slashed in two.

Dead at last, and from the woman he always said would be the death of him. Everything slowed down. He felt a rush of icy cold air breeze past him but no pain came. He turned and watched as a wolf crumbled to the floor, nearly cut in two. Right beside him.

The cloaked figure stood straight, dropping her sword to her side. Her opposite hand came up and pulled back the hood. Two indigo eyes appeared through the dark, making his heart go into overdrive. A thick, pink scar slashed through her lips. Starting on the right side of her upper lip and dipping all the way down to the left of her bottom lip. Her hair had been cut off close to her ears. But he would know her face anywhere.

Ten months nearly, since the last time they saw each other, but it felt like just yesterday.

And all his plans to yell at her for ditching him and Posy, to make sure she knew what a bitch she was, went right out the window. Instead, he felt his lips turn up as he took a ragged breath, the pain in his chest turning to blinding happiness in an instant.

A smile she returned, eyes going soft, if a bit manic.

"Why?" he asked, throat closing up with unbridled emotion. "Why take the potions?"

She knew how much it hurt him to be this strong. Did Pearl make her? Did she do it on purpose, working for her mother as she plotted? Why drop Hal off on his doorstep as a message if she was strong like he was now? She certainly didn't look like she needed help.

"I had to be stronger," she said slowly, her eyes unfocused, rougher than he remembered. His eyes dipped down to the silver around her neck, saw the dark bruising that encircled her throat. He looked a little closer though a full on fight was happening all around them. Spotted the jagged shards in her eyes, the new scars in her skin.

His finger came up and brushed against the metal, felt how warm it was. "Kitten?"

She blinked slowly, head tilting to the side as if savoring his word. "I'll try not to hurt any of your friends, Neville."

Then her sword came up and she bashed him in the side of the head with all her strength.

Super strength.

Everything went black.

oOo

Posy woke up with a nasty, fuzzy taste in her mouth, rolling over and off the pile of blankets she slept on. Not in her own room at Woolsey Way where she lived with Neville. But a room she didn't recognize. One with Quidditch posters all over the walls and small twin size bed squashed into the corner.

Though rumpled, her dress seemed spotless and that took her for a loop because the last thing she remembered was the overwhelming urge to fall asleep. On the floor. During the ball that happened in the evening. And from the sunny, summer day over a field of green grass Posy could see through the window, it was most certainly not evening any more.

She slept through the night?

Wondering cautiously to the door, she opened it just enough to peek through the crack. "Oh, heya."

Neville sat across the hall, legs stretched out, his elbow thrown over his eyes. His suit just as wrinkled as her dress. He looked, and frankly smelled, horrible. "Nev?"

He jerked awake suddenly, rolling to his feet with what Posy called his 'fight-face'. It relaxed as he realized where he was, and that it was only her in the tiny hallway. She brought her finger up to the blood stain on his suit.

"Do you want to tell me where we are?" she asked, quite worried.

"The - uh - The Burrow," he coughed, voice rough. He barely slept the last three days as it was. "This is where Ron's parents live."

"And we're here because…?"

Neville rubbed his face, clearly exhausted. He choked out, "Because The Ministry of Magic fell last night, they sent a wolf to distract us at the benefit while a group of wolves went downtown and destroyed the whole place."

Posy felt her heart drop. "Was… was anyone hurt?"

"Yeah," he wavered on his feet. "C'mon, let's get you some food. Full moon is tomorrow, you need to eat."

He seemed miserable and she took that forlorn 'yeah' to mean quite a lot of harm was done by her kind last night. As she knew, Harry Potter was not a huge fan of the Ministry of Magic, though he seemed on good terms with the Minister. It was for this reason they separated the Auror Department but Posy knew well enough to know Neville had plenty of friends who still worked for the Ministry even though he didn't.

"Tell me about it, please?" she asked, grabbing his hand gently. She briefly considered picking a fight to distract him from his obvious grief but for once he actually seemed too worn out for that.

Clearing his throat, he led her down a narrow set of stairs and into a cozy kitchen where a plump redhead wearing a worn but warm colored apron was putting plates of sausages and eggs on a scratched up kitchen table. But something else caught her eye.

The millions of pictures on the walls. "Look! It's Ron!"

Nev fell into a chair, laying his head on the table. But the woman came forward with a motherly grin. "And now she's awake! How did you sleep, Posy dear? I'm sorry I barely had time to clean up Ginny's old room before Hermione brought you by."

It felt like she slept for ten years, with a pine cone in her mouth. But she didn't want to be rude to this woman, who appeared to love her children and grandchildren dearly.

"Fine, thank you. It's nice to meet you Mrs. Weasley, I'm Posy Lovell," she stuck her hand out like Neville liked to do. Full of confidence. But the woman simply enveloped her in a hug.

"Welcome to The Burrow, Posy," Mrs. Weasley said kindly before escorting her to a chair and placing a pile of fruit next to her eggs and sausages. "Eat up now, a wolf needs to eat before the Full Moon. You need the energy."

"You say that like you know?" Posy didn't peg the woman as a wolf, but some were more obvious than others.

"I'm an old woman, dearie, and I've known my fair share of weres." Mrs. Weasley grinned, the wrinkles on her face making her seem like she smiled often and fully.

"And you're Ron's mum?"

"Ron is her favorite, Mrs. Weasley," Nev said tiredly, finally sitting up. He reached out to hold the back of her chair, leaning in slightly and giving her an increasingly tired-looking smile. "Eat up, so we can go home."

"Don't be bossy, Nev." But she reached out and took the fork from Mrs. Weasley's outstretched hands. "Please excuse his rudeness, Mrs. Weasley. He's a grumpy sort."

"Had my fair share of those as well, I'm afraid," Mrs. Weasley patted her shoulder encouragingly before leaving the kitchen.

Posy ate up, knowing Nev wouldn't talk until she'd eaten most of her food. And she was _very_ hungry, she realized. Between bites she sneaked a glance or two at her guardian, wondering exactly what happened that put such an awful look on his face. He'd tell her, if she asked. But she didn't want to ask, she wanted him to tell her on his own.

Instead she said, "Soo… I owe you five galleons."

His eyebrows shot straight up. "The bet? Your dress is clean."

"It wasn't when I passed out last night." She remembered everything, right up to wiping her face with the ruffles on her sleeve and thinking she could hear Pansy singing. "That plant thing made me really sleepy. So sleepy I sat down on the dirty floor and passed out."

He just shook his head. "That's The Fern. It produces a magical aura, most people have said they just feel calm around it."

"It made me super sleepy," Posy informed him. "Did you spend some time around it recently? Hmm?"

"No," he stole a piece of fruit from her plate. "I thought the distraction at the benefit was maybe Pearl, and you were off on your own. But really, it was to delay us while they attacked the Ministry. I've been up all night."

"I'm sorry, Nev." She couldn't imagine how rough his night was. "You're wrong about something though."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"Ron _isn't_ my favorite." She stuck a forkful of eggs in her mouth with a grin, but then she noticed the bandage under his hair. "Oh, did you take a hit to the head?"

He ignored the bit of apple he'd stolen, giving her a hard look. She couldn't tell if it was because of what she said, or her question. "Posy, it was your sister."

She dropped her fork, though she hadn't meant to. And for the second time in less than a day she burst into tears. Happy ones. "She's alive, Nev! She's alive!"

Except he didn't look happy.

"Nev?... Nev?" she stood up, breakfast forgotten. "Neville?"

* * *

*evil grin*


	28. Chapter 28

:)

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty Eight**

(Where Posy comes clean and Pansy finds a mate)

Posy slammed her bedroom door after rushing through the Floo all alone, though she hadn't meant to. Never before had she run from Neville and she knew it shocked them both. But her wolf raged beneath the skin, the call of the moon tomorrow night lending strength and desire. Desire to _move_. To fight. For touch. Making her crazy. She needed to run. But Posy wanted to be alone. At least for five minutes.

She started to cry.

Again.

Sure, she might've been acting like a big baby, crying for the third time in less than a day. But it seemed since her encounter with The Fern she couldn't stop. And this time, it was ugly. Big, awful sounding sobs erupted from her throat and before she knew it, she was kicking at her bed and throwing her pillows in a fit.

All these months, she had this idea in her head. That one day, Pansy would come back and they, with Neville, could be a family. A _real_ family. Because Neville loved her sister, and Pansy trusted Neville. They could be _together!_ They could make each other happy! Something they both deserved.

But now, apparently, her sister stabbed the Minister of Magic. She bashed Neville's head in so hard he passed out for _hours._ She killed several people. She killed several wolves too. And unlike with Hal, there was no doubt about it. If they ever caught Pansy, they would put her in jail.

And Posy wouldn't ever see her again.

Wailing, she wrenched open her closet and fell into the pile of her dirty clothes. Wanting to be in a dark, safe place that smelled of her home. The fine hairs on her arms stood up straight, her wolf prowling on the inside, begging to come out. She wanted to sink teeth into anyone who would dare lock their sister in a cell.

But Posy wasn't only wolf. She was part human too. And as much as she loved her sister, she knew that a murderer belonged in prison. Even if that murderer was the one person she missed terribly. The one person she assumed missed her just as much.

And she was wrong all along.

Pansy didn't miss her at all. She was free and working with the wolves. She promised to make it out of the Manor alive, and she did exactly that. But, Posy realized, Pansy never promised to make it out alive and come back for her. She never promised they would be together.

She thought this time would be different. But Posy spent her entire life watching Pansy _leave._

She cried for a long time, until she felt strong hands lift her up. Neville's hands. He pulled her into a hug, sitting against the wall under her bedroom window, and she buried her face into his neck, still crying. But her wolf settled. He smelled of home. Of the woody soap he always used. Of the ginger biscuits he kept for her. Of sawdust because he was always building something onto the house like the new driveway and the garage to go with it.

"Shh, little wolf," he rocked her gently, trying to comfort her. He growled the words but she could feel him holding back. Always afraid of his own strength and it confused her wolf on a fundamental level. How could someone who smelled like home not want to touch her?

She sat back, face wet with snot. "It's not enough!"

Her words hurt him. But she couldn't stop, a desperate pain hurting her insides.

"I'm not enough!" she shouted at him. All her frustrations poured out before she could stop it. "My Papa died. My mother hates me. Theo left me. And my sister doesn't want me."

Neville held Posy, who sobbed louder than he ever heard before. She physically shook, so hard he feared she would make herself sick. "Shh, Posy, it's okay to cry, but you're about to hurt yourself."

"Who cares?" she wailed, punching at his chest. She did it again and again. "Who cares!"

He didn't know what to do. His instinct was to squeeze her tight, hold her until she realized he wasn't going anywhere. To scream at _himself_ for failing as her guardian. To wind back time 12 hours until he was standing in front of Pansy Fucking Parkinson.

And instead of letting his personal feelings halt him in his tracks when he spotted those damn boots, instead of smiling at her like some kind of love sick idiot, he wished he could bash her head in as hard as she did to his. Wished he asked what the hell that thing around her neck was. Ask where the hell had she been. How could he explain that to Posy?

Terrified of his strength, he wiped his fingers across her cheeks. "I care," he told her softly. But she didn't hear it, her little punches taking all her focus. All smudgy eyes and fury. But he could work with that. She might be going by a different name these days, but Neville was well acquainted with the Parkinson brand of Fury.

"Posy," he grabbed her hands by wrapping his fingers around her wrists and held her still. "You hear me?"

The harder he squeezed her wrists the calmer she became, until relief softened her face and she collapsed back into his chest. Her sobs much softer. That instinct kicked back in and this time, he didn't resist. He wrapped his hands around her tiny body and squeezed her to his chest, holding her tight, and watched as she sighed in relief at the physical contact.

"You hear me, Parkinson?"

"I'm not," she sniffed so quietly he almost didn't hear. "I'm not a Parkinson. I dunno what I am. Pansy was the one who told me it didn't matter. She said I was more like her than either of our parents and that made me a Parkinson. But even she doesn't want to be around me."

"Then it's her damn loss," he said firmly. It was easy to be mad at Pansy, he'd been that way for so long. "And I won't have this conversation with you again, Posy, so you better listen to me very carefully."

She tensed but he didn't let up. Obviously she needed the touch, maybe her wolf needed it this close to the Moon. Something he definitely hadn't been giving her, as he always tried never to touch anyone. But it made sense on some level. Wolves are pack animals and for the last ten months, it had just been the two of them. Maybe he was her pack now. He squeezed her even tighter.

"I'm not your dad. I'm not blood related. I'm-" his teeth grinded together. "I'm _not Theodore Nott_. And I didn't take you in because of your sister. Because she made sure you ended up with me. Or because Malfoy helped make sure you _stayed_ with me. I didn't take you in because it's the right thing to do though all of those things are certainly true. I want you here, Posy. I want to be your family. I want to make sure that you are always taken care of and okay."

She sniffed but he continued, attempting not to yell. "That's not going to change, little wolf. No matter what happens with Pearl. No matter what happens with Pansy, I am your family. You hear me? You hear me, Posy?"

She didn't speak, her eyes closed shut, but her head nodded. He could feel wetness soaking through his shirt, but he didn't care. She still cried, but she calmed down enough that she no longer shook. No longer in danger of making herself sick.

He secured his hold and stood up, intending to take her to the kitchen. Noticed Susie stood in the doorway, still wearing her dress from the night before much like he still wore his suit. Both of them disheveled. He'd woken up to her face, standing over him, icing his head.

But he decided not to bring attention to her presence, not with Posy exhausted and red-faced with tears. As he made his way past Susie and down the stairs, he asked, "What do you need, little wolf?"

Tiredly, she mumbled, "Sing Wild Horses?"

"Teach me the words, I don't know them."

He carried her into their kitchen and sat her down at the table. Susie followed them, acting as if she'd just come through the Floo. "Heya, Posy, what are you teaching Nev?"

"Maybe later," she rubbed at her face and turned away, looking out the window instead of at them.

"Chip is making me take a few hours off," Susie informed them. She walked up and ran her fingers through his hair, checking his bandage. "I'm starving."

"If you're looking for food, you came to the right place," he said.

"Yeah," Posy added, though she continued to peer out the window. "We love food in this family."

Susan smiled making him think she overheard quite a bit of his conversation with Posy. "Here," she held out a small sack.

Inside he found his wand and his phone. "Thank you."

"The Minister will be fine," she reached out and hugged him. "He sends his regards and says he owes you one."

Then she whispered in his ear, "You two are breaking my heart."

A kind of spasm went through him, making him shudder in her arms. He didn't know how to tell her he understood.

His had been broken for ten long months.

oOo

He fed his girls carbonara even though it wasn't yet noon, having gotten really good at making it ever since finding out it was Posy's favorite. Susie managed to tell Posy about the night's events without the hard emotion. Speaking first of the shooting at the benefit immediately followed by her long shift at St. Mungo's.

They both had double helpings and he made sure Posy drank two glasses of water. Hermione dropped by with baby Rosie. They brought a bouquet of roses addressed to Posy and spent a few hours together out in the overgrown garden.

Neville knew he needed to sleep. But he couldn't for the life of him take his eyes off Posy, afraid she would be gone the moment he woke up. Afraid of something happening. The paranoia coming back in full force. He had never known fear like this before.

Susan sat with him for a minute before she left to go back to the hospital.

"She was strong," he whispered in secret. "She's the one that stole the potions, she killed Torres."

"I never cracked the secret behind them," Susie frowned, resting her chin in her palm. "I still have a test sample, I'll make this a priority. Don't argue this time, Nev."

"I know better than to do that." But try as he might he couldn't make himself smile to go with his joke. His head spun with theories.

Pansy left with Pearl that night Parkinson Manor burned down. Pansy went willingly, because Pearl couldn't physically overpower her, which meant Pearl had information Pansy needed. Maybe information about Posy's biological father. But hell, it could be anything. He thought he knew Pansy so well, but he hadn't even known about Posy. She had a whole history worth of information Nevile simply didn't know about and couldn't guess at. It had to be something big to keep her away for so many months.

What pushed her to seek out the remaining potions and take them herself? _I had to be stronger…_

That implied she was stuck in a situation she couldn't get out of. Which made Neville think Pearl had something much bigger over her. Something big enough to involve the wolves.

But then there was Hal. Who was still in a coma in a room at St. Mungo's. Too many factors and too many unknowns for him to narrow it down to any sort of conclusion. But the one thing he could not get out of his head, was the image of that metal around Pansy's neck.

Hand in his pocket, he fingered the diamond he carried around. There could be a third player. The Italians were just as vicious as the wolves though they hid it behind a refined curtain. And he didn't know nearly enough about them to predict their movements. That would have to change.

"Hey," Connor slapped his back, knocking him from his chaotic thoughts.

"Connor," he stood up and half hugged his friend. Who slapped his back several more times.

"You saved my ass, last night, LB."

"What else is new?"

"And the Minister too, I heard? Be careful, or Bobs might promote you," Connor warned with a tired grin. "I came by to check up on your girl, but she seems better than I expected, considering."

"Considering," Neville mumbled, rubbing at his face. "Bobbi isn't going to come by, is she?"

"What did you do?" Connor asked, catching on right away.

"Dislocated Lou's shoulder last night at the benefit, by accident."

It felt like forever ago, but it started a very long night for him.

"I didn't even know Lou came last night," Connor shook his head. "She alright?"

"Yeah," but he stood up and made his way over to the back gate.

Malfoy stood there, giving him a hard look, and behind him Bobbi was trotting along the walkway towards them. When Neville pulled open the gate, Malfoy held up today's edition of the _Prophet_. "Longbottom," he greeted dryly.

"Malfoy," Neville gestured for him to join the party, not sure what else to do. "I don't want to know whatever the hell that paper says."

"Shall I disregard the fact that you didn't see fit to tell me you ran into Pansy after we've been searching for her for months then?"

"'Ran into'? Ran into is not the phrase I would use," Neville angled his head to show Malfoy exactly what Pansy did to his head.

"Shame she didn't hit you harder," he deadpanned. But he lifted the paper up again. "This is a disaster, I can't spin this and I can't make this go away."

Stalking by, Malfoy dropped the paper and his briefcase onto the patio table before making his way over to where Hermione sat with Posy and Rosie. Neville watched Posy launch herself into Draco's arms upon seeing him, the man nearly folding under her wolf strength. It always peaked the few nights before the Moon.

"Can't stay," Bobbi dropped a black duffle bag at his feet. "Nott's laptop, Azkaban footage, and anything else I could think of to help you find her."

Before he could ask why she whistled loudly. " _Parkinson!"_

Posy jumped to attention and ran across the yard, stopping before Bobbi like a perfect little soldier. "Mrs. O?"

"You do not leave this house for any reason," Bobbi said in so firm a tone, even Neville found himself standing taller. "You do not go anywhere alone. Understood?"

"Yes Ma'am," Posy nodded nervously, visibly gulping.

"And you," Bobbi pointed at him, sticking her finger right into his chest. "You don't do anything unless you run it by me."

Then she left as quickly as she showed up, Connor shrugging as he followed, leaving Neville with a sinking feeling that went along perfectly with the emotional rollercoaster he'd been on since last night. But he didn't really have to wonder why Bobbi decided to help him find Pansy. Not after what happened. "She stabbed the damn Minister," he said under his breath, looking down to Posy.

"Are you in a lot of trouble?" she asked quietly.

"I stood there," he shook his head. "Posy, I just stood there. I'm really sorry."

He seemed to be saying that a lot lately.

"What else were you supposed to do?"

Against his better judgement, he picked up the paper and looked at the front page picture. _Wolf Attack Leaves Ministry in Shambles!_

Followed by a blown up picture of the Minister being dragged out, a large bandage circling his head. Neville recalled the large gash on the man's eyebrow. He flipped over the page and went to the article, quickly glancing over it. And finding exactly what he expected.

Politicians calling for immediate action. Tag wolves so they could be tracked. It made his teeth grind together. Not that long ago, they wanted to do the same to Muggle Borns. Now they wanted to do it to Posy? Bobbi was right in advising she not leave the house. Neville flipped the page again and came face to face with a close up shot of Pansy. Someone had snapped it while her hood was down, sword coming up to strike.

Probably him.

He'd never been hit so hard in his damn life.

"Nev," Hermione said softly, coming up beside him, lifting a hand to pat his shoulder. He looked around for the baby, finding her in the last place he ever expected. In Draco Malfoy's arms. The man looked completely enamored by the child he rocked so gently.

Hermione followed his gaze. "Don't worry about Rose, Draco can't hurt a child."

"Can't or won't?"

A gentle nudge came with her answer. "Astoria died after a complicated miscarriage, Nev. Draco can't hurt a child." She looked down at the picture. "Oh…"

Her other hand came out to run a finger over the scar across Pansy's lip. He wondered when she got it. And how. To him, it made her lips look more plump. But he realized it had the bonus effect of making her look more dangerous. Not that she needed any help in that category.

The sword alone made him think of a deadly warrior he wouldn't want to cross paths with.

"Oh, Nev," Hermione sniffed. "She looks sad."

Sad? He hadn't gotten that feeling one bit. He looked again, bringing the paper closer to his face. "Sad…" he just couldn't see it. The closest thing to sad he'd ever seen from Pansy was the day Theo died. But that had been more manic energy, a desperation to get to her sister and keep those she loved from Pearl.

From getting hurt.

This wasn't like that. She looked deadly and dangerous in very different ways. He was used to seeing her with her signature blade, the hilt wrapped in brown leather, the icy chill coming off the blade. The blade with a wicked curve that mimicked her wicked smile.

And with that, he realized what Hermione mistakenly meant by sad. Pansy wasn't sad in this photo. It was that she didn't have that usual playfulness about her. She wasn't smirking. She wasn't teasing. No naughty thoughts came from her lips. No tricks.

Just a darkness that left Neville's heart in worse shape.

He dropped his arms, the paper with it, and found Posy standing right in front of him. Hand held out expectantly. But her face was dry, her eyes steady. She wouldn't show weakness in front of everyone here and that thought gave him a bit of hope.

That was a Parkinson trait, through and through.

He put the paper in her hands, despite knowing the majority of his friends would disapprove. But he couldn't keep things from her. She unfolded the paper slowly and brought the picture close to her face, looking carefully.

All while the people in his life looked on, having come to make sure Posy would be okay. Checking on her. Bringing her flowers. She wouldn't realize it now, or over night even, but one day she would figure out she wasn't alone.

"Neville," she said slowly. It shocked him. She always called him 'Nev'. Her finger traced the silver collar around Pansy neck. Almost the same way he had. "You didn't tell me about this."

He shook his head. "I don't know what it is," he admitted.

She looked up and met his eyes. She looked just like Pearl, a somber, hard gaze that made Neville think of pain. But it turned to fear almost an instant later. "I do."

Then she turned and ran into the house.

oOo

Marcus's nose made a loud _pop_ ping sound when she hit him. She held back, tempering her strength easily. It had become second nature. She couldn't allow Vistain to know the true extent of her physical power. He wanted her strong enough to withstand the pit, not strong enough to take him on. Not that she could.

Damn collar around her neck created a direct conduit to her mind. His words went in. His words came out. But Vistain never spent years in the Academy, learning how to lie. How to create truth from lies. Learning from the best liar in the world. Seraphina would be proud of the way Pansy twisted Vistain's words over the months. Twisted it to her benefit.

She wasn't in the damn dungeon any longer.

"Explain why he's here."

He walked confidently, her captor turned lover. Not that there was any sort of love between them. And always in a suit, his chocolate brown hair slicked back. Well groomed. No one would ever guess that he turned into a fuzzy wolf three nights a month and ran around in the expansive woodlands behind the estate.

He liked it that way.

Pansy thought he might have been a Muggle before his transformation. The three Vistain's were too savvy with Muggle tech and politics, and she had a feeling everything they knew about the Great War with Voldemort and his Death Eater's came from secondhand information.

It would explain their distinct hatred for wizardkind.

"Now," he reiterated. That was the thing about Ellis Vistain. He never asked for a thing. Only demands and orders. Commands. Like the one that she accompanies his cannon fodder that he sent to the Ministry last night and kill any Auror she sees on sight.

One of those Aurors had gotten her good. The blonde one. The Bombshell. She hid her pain as she stepped forward, dropping to a knee. There could be any number of reasons for Marcus's presence at Vistain's home, where he ruled over the wolves. The first floor served as headquarters, as a court. Where Vistain ruled with an iron fist over the packs since she blew up the last of the Glimmer.

Over night, the main three families lost their main source of control over the wolf population. Except Vistain got lucky. He came upon a Faery Collar. Keyed to blood, it could enthrall even the stubbornest humans. He planned to put the thing on Pearl, thinking she deserved it for her absolute refusal to become a wolf herself. For refusing to ally with a specific family, too greedy to give her allegiance as she dealt Glimmer to all three of the families and raked in piles of gold for it.

Instead, he put it on Pansy.

"He's an old lover of mine," she said, grabbing onto Marcus's chin with her fingers, tilting his head to show his face to Vistain. Timmy held Marcus's arms behind him, keeping him still. Though it wasn't necessary. It helped with the charade that the potions she stole, that she convinced Vistain she _needed_ to succeed in the pit, didn't work as well as they should have. That she wasn't as strong as say a certain Alpha wolf. "He shouldn't be here."

Marcus got her meaning.

Ellie, as usual, thought she was _allllll_ his. It had taken months, but Vistain believed everything she did, she did for him. Which was true enough.

"And he's come to reclaim you," Vistain laughed, clearly thinking Marcus an idiot.

But Pansy knew Marcus would never come for her, not as a rescue. She was Vistain's pet. His pocket assassin. And the current wolf situation, where Vistain held all the power, was completely her doing. No, Marcus would never come to her rescue. Not even with their intimate past.

"Pfft," Marcus spit blood on the shiny marble floor at Vistain's feet. "Who would want her now? She's as ugly on the outside as she is on the inside."

Vistain smiled. He enjoyed her scars, knowing he was the cause of them. Not directly. That was his one failing, in Pansy's opinion. He hated getting his hands dirty, much preferring others to do the dastardly deeds for him. It would please him to see Marcus suffer a bit… at her hands.

Pansy squeezed his face, digging her chipped and dirty nails into the skin of his cheek. Pearl killed his sister. And she killed his brother and father. Yep, he probably hated her more than she hated herself. "You have no idea how ugly I can get."

As expected, Vistain turned downright gleeful. Violence his one turn on. "Show him what you're capable of, my pet."

"I'm here to surrender," Marcus panted, wincing in pain when she threatened to tear his head off. "I'm not going to make the same mistake Neva made."

"Neva?" Vistain laughed. "Yes, my little pet took care of her didn't she?"

Neva showed up with Hal, a surprising duo to be sure. Pansy had been happy to see him, all leathers and ink, looking the same as he always did. Now _he_ had come to rescue her like a real gentlemen, using Neva's revenge plot as his way in.

It had been his idea to pick a fight with her in front of Vistain, forcing her to defend herself as Vistain's property. Sacrificing himself for her. Too bad it hadn't been worth it. But what were another couple of names to add to her ever growing list?

"Did she?" Marcus asked, eyeing her nervously. She could tell he already knew it. "Nice of you to spread the murder between all the families and not just mine."

Her mind decided to go into a loop then and there. Yellow dahlias followed Pearl, chained up to a damp stone wall. Posy as a baby wolf, all clumsy feet, black fur, and blue eyes. Laughter spreading through her villa. Her dark eyed man she wasn't supposed to be thinking about.

Running into him made it harder to keep his memories in her little mind-box.

Intrusive hands grabbed at her neck, pulling her to the present. A hot breath she hated against the skin. "She doesn't discriminate, do you my pet?"

Always with the goddamn endearment. "I'm nice like that."

The promise of violence mixed with the pull of the Moon had the entire manor humming with energy. Not a good mixture if she wanted to keep Marcus alive. She prepared herself to have to kill him, the man who first called her 'Pan-Pan' and taught her about the wolf packs. But she might be able to distract Vistain. "We could throw him in the pit, make him fight for you. He's a good fighter, Ellie."

"Good enough to take you?" Vistain pulled her closer to his body. Unable to resist contact that now he touched her. He was usually fine up until that first touch. The humming ramped up, his usual calm and collected manor withering under the needs of the wolf.

"No," she answered immediately, allowing Vistain to align their bodies so he was pressed into her back, his mouth hoovering by her ear. She could not afford for him to think for even a second she wasn't strong enough to defeat anyone who challenged her in the pit. "But he could make you a few pieces of gold before he makes it to the final round."

 _She_ was the final round.

Marcus trembled in her hold, which remained steady. "I'm not lying, Vistain. I'm not an idiot, like my sister or Neva, or any other of those filthy Fawley's. I want to live, that means following the stronger Alpha."

"Then again," Pansy said conversationally. "He might be too valuable for the pit. Wolves will follow him because of his name. If he swears allegiance to you…"

"Will he?"

"He will if he wants to live, if not, I can..." she whistled sharply, mimicking the sound her sword made when she swung it through the air. The blade, made of ice, was equistedly sharp. It sounded like an icicle falling from a great height, but did it ten times the damage.

Beside her, Vistain practically drooled. Husky with the desire for violence. "Well, Mr. Barton?"

Marcus looked from Vistain to her, to Vistain and then finally back to her. "You know me better than that," he growled, his eyes burrowing into hers. The wolf coming out.

Surprise had her mind looping again. A cold winter night in a dirty, rowdy wolf club. Marcus saying the same words to her. Gunfire. Hal. An Auror pushing her into a brick wall, his fingers between her legs.

"I'm here to _surrender,_ " he insisted, eyes never leaving hers.

And Pansy realized, to her extreme surprise, that Marcus was here to help her. She had to keep him alive. She pulled Marcus from Timmy's hold, pinned him to the ground with her knees as she summoned her sword. All within a second. She pressed the sharp, icy edge of her blade into his neck.

Vistain would never outright agree with her, or take advice from her either. She had to make him believe she didn't want Marcus around. "Let's lock him up until tonight, then give him a front row seat to the pit. Give him a taste of what will happen if he's _lying_ to us."

"So bloodthirsty," Vistain hummed happily, snapping his fingers at Timmy. "Lock him up, for now."

Locked up, but alive. Pansy rolled up to her feet, ignoring the pain in her ankle. And right into Vistain's front space. Another loop made her woozy. A wolf running after her through the dark. Lewd threats to her sister. _This is a real treat indeed... Doesn't he know the things I'm going to do to you?_

His voice mixed seamlessly into her thoughts. "Pansalina."

"I hate that name," she breathed through her nausea and blinked up at him, trying her best to make it seem like his nearness had her breathless. Show no signs of weakness. Especially so close to the Moon. His senses would be in overload. His sense of smell and his need to touch ramped up until he wouldn't be able to control it. Like normally.

Any other day, he wouldn't bring himself to touch her. He didn't like contact. Didn't like women especially. But the wolf is a tactile creature, one who needed touch. And Vistain, wolf or not, enjoyed violence, enjoyed when others suffered physical pain. Emotional or mental didn't cut it. It had to bleed or break.

Pansy had become very good at causing blood and breaks.

The few nights before the Moon, knowing how many had died at her hands, having witnessed it, had given Vistain the one thing he never thought he would have towards a woman.

Attraction.

"I know," he leaned in, rubbing his nose against her temple. Breathing in her scent. "It makes you angry, and I prefer you that way. You hurt people when you're angry."

Then he did something new, pressing his nose down further, into her neck. His entire frame shuddered before he stumbled back several feet from her. The situation unclear. She watched as he pressed a hand over his nose and amber lit up his eyes.

Pansy shivered, "Oh fuck..."

oOo

Posy wouldn't tell him what she knew about the collar, stubbornly refusing to talk to anyone. She locked herself in her room for the majority of the afternoon, but couldn't resist when he warmed up a batch of ginger biscuits.

Food always worked.

People had been dropping by all day, but the most surprising visitor came right before dinner. Posy opened the front door and crossed her arms. "You aren't Bobbi," she accused. Somehow. It wasn't an accusation but the tone said otherwise.

"Uh, hello there."

Neville jumped the last few steps as he came downstairs and pulled the front door wide open. Revealing Lou. "Posy this is Lou… Lou Fernard?"

Bobbi's maiden name.

"Bang on," Lou held a fist up. "Bobbi's younger sister."

"Hmmph," Posy turned on her toe, nose up in the air, and stomped her way into the kitchen and out of sight without another word.

"Rough day," he offered as an apology because he didn't know how to explain the mood swings of a pre-teen wolf who thinks her family abandoned her. "Come inside."

She wiped her boots on the welcome mat before stepping in. "I heard, I mean, I'm there." Lou dropped her fist as well as her smile. "No Ministry, no job."

"And some asshole dislocated your shoulder last night," he crossed his arms and stepped between her and the kitchen door.

She broke out into a huge smile. "There's that too. But upon further investigation I found out from my sister who the little one is to you," she nodded in the direction Posy had stormed off. "Spencer, not Bobbi. I probably won't hear from Bobbi again… anytime… this lifetime. Anyways, sorry, I'm a rambler. Um, here."

With a nervous laugh, she held out her hand. He wanted to trust her, she was Bobbi's sister after all. But he'd seen that kind of demeanor before, that innocent but enthusiastic glee coming from Lester Hastings had him fooled from the first. When he didn't immediately take it, she turned her hand palm up and revealed the small stone in her hand.

A cloudy colored stone the size of a marble.

"Please, I'd love for you to have it. It's a Mind Shard," she explained. "A crystal. For mental clarity and patience."

"Why?" he asked, trying to keep his tone even, distrusting her more and more with every word. She wasn't lying, he could tell if she were. But he could also tell she wasn't exactly being up front either.

"Be- _cause_ ," Posy snapped from the kitchen doorway. She copied his stance, crossed arms, feet hip width apart, looking, or trying to look stern. "She _likes_ you."

Lou's pale cheeks heated to a bright pink as her smile grew bigger and bigger with nervousness. "Well, honey, I have eyes. But really Spence filled me in about… details I might have missed before. I have a friend, one who died from a Glim overdose."

Her smile faded, but she still held the stone out, her eyes lingering on Posy. "I know who Pearl Parkinson is."

Implying she knew who Posy was, and who she was to Neville. The stone a peace offering. It was the most honest thing she'd said all night. He reached out and picked up the stone, gently, from her hand. It felt cool to the touch, though not nearly as cold as _The Dolce Mela._

"Thanks," he told her.

Much like back at The Conservatory, she gestured to the front door and said, "I'm just going to… Yeah."

Then she left.

"Seriously," Posy rolled her eyes. "Don't date her. She's far too ditzy for you."

"I don't date," he followed her back into the kitchen after making sure the door was locked. "Seriously, when have I ever gone on a date?"

As expected she asked about her sister. "You've never taken Pansy on a date?"

"Uh," he hesitated mid opening the fridge. "I took her to a fun house once."

"Why do I get the feeling you're not telling me everything?"

"It was a crime scene, and she was the one that found it, not me, and it wasn't a fun house. It was a hallway full of bloody mirrors."

"Maybe you do need a little ditzy in your life," Posy collapsed into her spot at the kitchen table, resting her chin on her folded arms, her eyes lingering longingly on the empty plate that once held several cookies.

He busied his hands by making her another dinner. Cutting up a ripe, green pear he found in the bottom of the fruit drawer and slapping together a peanut butter and honey sandwich. "What do you know about dating?"

Half the sandwich was eaten by the time she answered, honey dripping down her side arm. "Nothing. Papa died when I was very little-Pansy and Theo were always fighting. I remember Sarah and her mate loved each other though but I think being wolfmates is different than being married."

Now that they were alone, and with the late hour he wasn't expecting any more visitors, he could finally ask about the collar around Pansy's neck and what exactly Posy knew about it. Except she clammed up the moment she saw Pansy's picture, something keeping her quiet.

He said, "Tell me about wolfmates, I only know about the shoulder bite."

"I don't know anything about that," Posy said, pushing half her pear towards him. "I heard once that it's like finding the missing piece of your soul. The piece the wolf replaced."

"Who told you that?" he asked.

Her eyes turned down and to the left. "Sarah, talking about David."

"So, one day, if you find them, you'll mate with a wolf?"

"I dunno," she shrugged, munching on her pear, avoiding eye contact. But she wasn't lying anymore. "Could be a human. Probably not though. With my track record."

"Good," he joked instead of getting angry all over again. He didn't expect her to suddenly get over her abandonment issues over the course of one day. They needed to have an honest conversation, not redo all the crying from earlier. "It won't be pretty."

"What won't be pretty?" she asked, curiously.

"They day you bring home a boy for me to meet."

Her face turned to disgust immediately. "Boys are gross, Nev. No offense."

"Girls can break your heart just as much as boys," he took a bite of pear. "You remember you can't lie to me, right?"

"You assume you'll be around long enough for me to start bringing home boys for you to meet," she challenged instead of responding.

"Posy," he warned. "Not having this conversation with you again."

"When I was 4, and I got bit, Theo came to see me. He brought me yellow flowers, said they matched my hair and that they made him smile. I asked why he came to see me when he and Pansy had been broken up. And he said, he would always be around for me whether or not he was with Pansy. Then, I didn't see him again until I was 6, when my papa died."

One day Neville hoped to hear something at least halfway decent about the man named Theodore Nott, something that would help alleviate his urges to strangle a man who was already dead.

"Nott was an addict. One who went to see you so he could get Glim from your mum. He just wanted a hit. He blackmailed people and sold secrets for a living. He's an _asshole._ His opinions shouldn't matter."

"Don't talk about Theo like that!" she shouted.

"You and your sister love comparing me to him, so I'll talk about him any damn way I see fit to talk about him, Po! Is he the one who told you about wolfmates?"

"No," she snapped angrily. "He's the one who told me about Ellis Vistain. To stay away from all the Vistain's, because they only think about themselves and come from a family of serial killers and cannibals and criminals and… and…"

She stood up, knocking her chair over, running over to the sideboard where Neville had earlier placed the news article about Pansy. "And they have stuff like this!"

Posy stuck the paper in face like he hadn't been looking at it all day, pointing to the collar. "What are you trying to tell me, Po? Does your sister need help?"

But her bouncy nervousness threw him. There was something she wanted to tell him, but something else was holding her back. "Yes."

"Because Vistain has her?"

"Yes."

"You want me to go after her?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Then tell me what the hell this thing is," he slammed the paper on the table hard enough it groaned under the force.

He watched as her lip began to tremble, her eyes watering. Then his phone went off. _Ping!_

He ignored it. "None of them want me to talk to you about this stuff. Hermione, Ron, Bobbi and Connor, they would rather I keep you out of any situation that involves my cases, your sister, and your mother."

 _Ping!_

"I don't want to do that. I met you when you stabbed me between my ribs, aiming for my lungs, putting yourself between me and a bunch of kids you were trying to protect. To me, you will always be that tough little wolf who can handle herself. Do you trust me, Posy? Your sister doesn't, but do you? Do you trust me when I say how I feel about you? Do you?"

 _Ping!_

"Yes," she nodded again.

"Then tell me, what the hell this is, what is around your sister's neck?"

Bouncing, she started pacing back and forth in front of him. The rest of her food forgotten."It's a Faery Collar. It makes people do things against their will. Mother took me to the Vistain Estate once last year, doing a deal with Mr. Vistain. I snuck into a big room. The Drawing Room on the first floor. There were books and suits of armor and crystal balls and this. It was in a glass box. Ellis Vistain found me and told me what it does, he took the collar out and showed me where a drop of blood goes, on the back link. Once it's keyed to someone's blood, it can't be reused. He told me he was going to use it on my mother and if I said anything or warned her, then he would make sure I'd be alone at the next revel. Fresh meat."

"It compels?" he asked after a long moment of silence. "Like her Glim."

Posy's voice broke, eyes turning watery again. "That's where she got the idea from."

"Because you told her about the collar even though Vistain threatened you," he realized. He knew that's exactly what Posy would do, warn Pearl about the threat. She wouldn't put herself first. More, he realized it wasn't information Pearl had over Pansy that kept her away. It was Vistain. The man who wanted to put a muzzle on Pansy. "You know it's not your fault, Po."

"Yes it is," she choked out. "I could have kept my mouth shut. Mama never would have partnered up with Daphne to experiment with Glim. Those women wouldn't have died. Sarah and Kath wouldn't have died. They wouldn't have chained me up or kidnap a bunch of kids and turn them into wolves. They wouldn't have dosed up Pansy or killed Theo... She wouldn't have hurt you, Neville. And now… the collar's on Pansy…"

He leaned forward. "Posy, you are not responsible for the things your mother did. You love your family. You were trying to protect her."

 _Ping! Ping!_

"Fucking hell, hold on Posy," he brought out his phone and checked his messages.

"Who is it?" she asked in a small voice.

"...It's Marcus Barton."


	29. Chapter 29

This chapter made me a little sad. But the Full Moon is coming and things are going to get *wild*. Be prepared!

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty Nine**

(Susie yells at Neville and his heart turns a little darker)

Susan ran into her office shutting the door as quickly and quietly as she could behind her, the sense of deja vu unwelcome. A pattern was emerging, one she didn't particularly enjoy. She slammed her fingers down over the light switch to submerge herself in darkness and pressed into the corner where her coat hanger sat, her dusty winter coat still hanging there months after its last use.

She used it to hide herself.

It was silly. But Chip said Malfoy entered the building and after the long night she had following that complete circus of a benefit, she wanted to avoid the man she begged a huge favor from at all costs. One he granted without blinking. No hesitation. Just a very quick, no nonsense agreement. It didn't matter how necessary it might have been, she felt herself sinking deeper into an inescapable hole.

Another minute passed where her heart rate slowed and nothing happened except her frantic, sleep deprived thoughts.

Then, with all the clarity of a woman who'd been awake for over 2 days, she realized how ridiculous she was acting. Draco Malfoy was the reason this hospital was even operational. His monetary contributions alone would keep it going for months, if not years. But he didn't only donate his gold, but his time as well. Running the board to make sure the money was used properly. In ways to get _more_ financial stability.

He didn't come around just to see her. He was probably working.

"Get a grip," she said softly to herself, alone in the dark.

She kicked off her shoes and turned on the desk lamp before sitting down for the first time since prior to the benefit. Eyes closed, she took a steadying breath to orient herself. She had a bag with an unknown piece of metal in it and two piles of files with her. One set, all the victims she identified and the corresponding families that needed to be notified. Far too many familiar faces had her heart clenching painfully. The other, unidentified and too disfigured to easily do so.

Several of her staff had commented on how lucky it was that the attack happened during the late evening, when most of the Ministry staff had either been home or at the Benefit. The staff personally vetted by her and by Malfoy. They wanted people who believed in helping people, regardless of money or stature or current physical standing. One thing Muggles seemed to have right, the motto 'do no harm' stuck with her the moment she began her pursuit for a medical degree.

But she wondered if 'lucky' was a good word choice for the current situation. 32 dead. Another 17 injured, 10 of those in critical condition. And all while the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures sprouted off thinly veiled hatred and demanded that werewolves be tagged immediately.

Susan picked up a picture of Charlie Fernard. Shiny blue eyes identical to all the Fernard sisters. Choppy blonde hair stylishly done. A tattoo of a sparrow just under her ear.

And a werewolf. One who managed to keep it a secret from everyone except for family. She worked as a legal aid for The Ministry. Bobbi's little sister, and Susan's cousin. She was related to all the Fernard's through her grandmother. It was hard to look at the still picture and think she would never see Charlie again. One of the 32.

Bobbi had taken it well enough, the news that Susan had identified Charlie despite all the damage done to her. But Susan knew Bob pretty well. She would get the job done without an ounce of emotion, and later, when there was no one else around, she would break down in private. All of the sisters were close, despite their varying ages and wildly different interests.

Yeah, Susan expected, much like herself, once Bobbi was alone, behind closed doors, the waterworks would start up and never stop.

Carefully, she folded the picture and placed it in her personal notebook before she began writing a letter to Mrs. Fernard, her aunt. She identified the body, it was only right that she write the formal letter. She tried to keep it professional, but Susan could only think of the time that Charlie, Bobbi, and herself snuck into their Grandmother's vanity and tried on every bit of perfume they could find. She recalled the overwhelming floral smell that didn't fade for days no matter how many baths her Aunt Amelia made her take. Charlie had smelled of lilac and jasmine for a week.

The sweet memory did more to make her eyes feel tired than her exhaustion, the scent of river gardenia filling her nose pleasantly. Then Malfoy was swinging her chair around, bringing them face to face as he leaned over her. His other hand was pushing a white bloom into her hair behind her ear.

"You look dead on your feet," he said dryly, as if it were her own fault she hadn't slept in 2 days.

Gently, she placed her quill down on the desk and avoided the soft blue of his steely gaze by peering downwards, letting her hair fall into her face. "Less dead than some."

"Thank Arianrhod for that."

"Praying to the goddesses for me?" she couldn't help herself from peeking up at him. Determined to figure out exactly what kind of cologne he used, and why it made her mouth water like it did. Heady like the ocean, which went perfectly with the scent of driftwood.

"Just as my Mother taught me," he said, coming in closer. "Emmanuel Winston has already submitted the petition to have you replaced."

He didn't have to be so close to tell her the headstrong director of the Committee hated her guts. "Let me guess, he cited a Head Healer who is young and too inexperienced to run the hospital."

"Especially after that debacle at the benefit, how offensive of you, to take a stand of principles," he ran his hand through her hair, brushing it back from her face. "Rest assured Head Healer Bones, I can keep the hounds at bay for you."

"It's my fault they're after you, Mr. Malfoy," her voice turning breathy against her will when their eyes met. Finally. "For backing my move to open the hospital up to everyone."

"Winston was toting Pureblood Ideals at my Father's dinner table not that long ago, then pounced on Anti-Magic Fanatics before becoming anti-wolf and taking a hard stance on drugs. Glim only, he doesn't care about the ongoing drug problems the Muggles have. He's a sheep. He goes with the other sheep, thinking there's safety in numbers. He won't be a problem."

Was he a knight in shining armor even if she created the situation she needed rescuing from? He continued to lean over her, unblinking gaze and provocative scent making her mouth water. For a man who infuriated her and still clearly loved his wife. They fought constantly, about the hospital mostly, never anything personal, except…

The hospital was very personal for her.

But there were other things that piqued her desire. He worked hard at his job. He donated his wealth to charities and helped people in need. When she asked if he would back her play to open the hospital to wolves, he agreed without blinking. And when he kissed her, her body did this strange thing where it turned pleasantly warm.

Well, not so strange. It was just her adrenal glands pumping out adrenaline at a rapid pace, elevating her blood pressure, making her skin feel hotter. The mystery was in the why. Why this man made her heart beat faster and her palms turn sweaty.

"You've been avoiding me," he accused for the second time, his fingers snaking through her hair to grip the back of her skull.

"Maybe you haven't noticed but there has been a lot of activity around here the last two days," she said, somewhat snidely if she were honest.

He gave her a slow smile that reminded her, a bit too late, that this man worked with the law every day. He played with words for a living. "That's not a denial, Ms. Bones."

"That's _Healer_ Bones. Or Doctor, if you prefer."

"Which do you?"

" _You_ may call me Dr. Healer Bones."

"Dr. Healer Bones," he continued in a maddeningly slow manner. "Why are you avoiding me?"

Because the urge to kiss him only got stronger with prolonged contact. Because the last date she went on was with Mag several _years_ ago, and sometime after that, a very rotten one night stand with Terry Boot and a bottle of whiskey. Because-"I'm stressed."

"Me too," he admitted softly.

"But I'm not going to kiss you," she gulped. "Again. I shouldn't be doing that."

"No?"

"No."

Despite her slight head shake, he leaned in and claimed her lips. Technically, she didn't kiss him this way. He was the one doing the act. It was all on him. This time. It didn't matter that she responded right away, right? She hadn't initiated it. And apparently kissing wasn't enough anymore. His hands came to her front, pushing aside her robe and pulling on the buttons of her blouse with methodical precision. He leaned back to watch his own work, deft fingers pulling apart her shirt and revealing her bra and bare stomach.

She was lost to the steady interest of his eyes, the intimacy of being undressed by a man who desired her, and so she caught the flash of anger that disrupted his mood.

"What the hell is this?" he asked, stepping back.

She looked down and found a steady bruise that circled her waist.

Draco sent his hand out to brace himself against her desk, his eyes furious, pushing aside her massive piles of files. And the small bag that held an unknown piece of metal found at The Ministry.

"Wait," she pushed away, grabbing the bag, both kiss and bruise forgotten. "Wait. I know what this is…"

oOo

Susie came through the Floo like a bat out of hell. "Nev!"

Who she found at the kitchen table, sliding his phone into his jeans pocket and the usual gruff look on his face. Posy stood in front of him, tears on her face. Clearly she interrupted something heavy, but this couldn't wait.

"Everything okay, Susie?" Nev asked her in a rough voice. She wanted to keep him at the hospital. He shouldn't have survived the hit he took to the head from Pansy. But nothing about Neville made sense to either side of her profession lately.

His skeleton shouldn't have been able to support the kind of musculature needed for his strength. When Pearl Parkinson introduced Glimmer to his system, it ignited the remaining traces of the strength potion in his blood and made him as strong as ten Kodiak Bears. He shouldn't have survived that either, because _how the hell had he survived his blood literally boiling?_ But somehow he managed to wake up.

But that wasn't why she was there.

"Nev, can you describe the metal you saw around Pansy's neck?"

She expected her question to be uncomfortable, but Posy let out a high pitched whine from the back of her throat. Poor thing. She loved her sister. Susan couldn't imagine what it felt like to find out your own sister had stabbed The Minister of Magic. But Kinglsey would be fine. And if Susan was right, it wasn't her fault… strange as that may seem.

"Two secs, Susie," Neville said. He swept Posy up in his arms and walked away, murmuring comfort and love.

It made Susan want to swoon. September 13th, 1999. Neville Longbottom asked her out after a training session, it was before she went into the Healing Program. Not for a coffee, not for a drink. But for a date. And she said no, because they were friends and she didn't want to mess that up. Never in their history had it ever been more than platonic friendship between them, but something about seeing Neville in dad-mode made Susan rethink that decision.

For the second time that night, Susan snooped.

She tiptoed up the stairs and listened at Posy's bedroom door, ear pressed into the wood. Listened to Posy cry. Listened to Neville suggest she drink a glass of water and try to sleep. It took longer than two seconds, but eventually Posy settled down and went quiet, their words no longer discernible. She waited patiently for several minutes until the door opened again.

"Me too, little wolf," Neville said as he shut the door behind him. He leaned against the door and waited, eyes closed, listening like she had. He allowed his pain to show across his face, something he rarely did. Even with her.

"She'll be alright, Nev," she whispered to him across the wood. He believed her, but he also believed Susan didn't understand Posy wasn't some obligation for him. That the day Magic left the world, he fell in love twice.

He nodded and led her downstairs. "I'll talk, if you can…"

"C'mon," she guided him into one of the kitchen chairs but his back towards her and not against the chair back. She didn't bother warming up before digging into his back firmly.

A million little thoughts running through his head. "It's way worse than before."

"It won't kill you, if that makes it better at all." He would just be in pain for the rest of his life. No problem. She handed him a piece of metal. "What do you think about this?"

He examined it while she massaged his back. The silver pristine and polished smooth. Except for the strange writing on the underside. Like an engraved wedding band, but this went around the neck. He couldn't read the writing, the script too foreign. But he knew exactly what she showed him.

"After you got knocked out at The Ministry, someone took a swing at Pansy. They missed, obviously, but later after she fled, someone found this and sent it with me."

"It's part of the collar around her neck."

"Yes, which means she's in trouble, Nev."

"I already knew that," he growled, though he didn't mean to.

"You know what that collar does?" she trudged on despite his bad temper. "It makes people do things against their will. It's corrosive to the human psyche. Let's say she's worn it since she went missing, I can't imagine her mental state. Now it's _broken?"_

"What will that do?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know, I don't want to find out. You need to go to her and get that collar off as soon as possible. Do you have any idea where she is? Who put it on her to begin with?"

He was silent for a long time after that, despite the urgency of her question. Flipping the metal in his hands over and over. Yes, he knew. Ellis Vistain had her. Had her all these months. He should be finding out exactly where he kept her and tearing the entire place down the ground.

He could do it with his bare hands. He could do whatever he liked and no one could stop him.

Except Pansy.

"Don't ask me how I know, but Ellis Vistain has Pansy. And Pearl most likely."

Her massage stopped. "What?"

"Don't ask, Susie. I need Posy to be safe," he admitted. "If I go after Pansy, I can't stick around to keep Posy safe, and now isn't a good time to be a wolf."

It felt like before, during the war. Half the Ministry burnt down on top of all the deaths and injuries. It would take weeks to get back up and in working condition. Two sides fighting and everyone was scared. The problem, as Neville could see it, wasn't a wolf versus wizard conflict. It was that without magic, his kind didn't stand a chance.

A Muggle could become a werewolf, but not a wizard.

"Nev," Susan came around to face him. "Did you just lie to me?"

"What? No," he shoved out of the chair, throwing the silver on the table, and went through the backdoor out into the yard.

Susan followed, shutting the door quietly before she turned her aggression back on him. "Not that you want Posy to be safe," she whispered harshly at him. "But that's not your reason for holding back. You know well enough Draco and I would never let anything happen to that girl. Neither would Ron and Hermione."

"I have gone through hell to get her to trust me, to believe I'm not going to just up and abandon her like everyone else has," he whispered back. "You know what she told me up there? She loves me."

Susan placed a hand over her heart, feeling tender. "Nev…"

"She loves me. How can I justify _leaving her_? And to go after her sister? How can I choose between them?"

"That's exactly what you're going to do," she pulled on his hand when he stepped down into the grass. "Don't walk away. For as long as I've known you, you have always done what was best for everyone else. Helping everyone else but yourself."

She flattened his hand and placed the piece of Pansy's collar in his palm. "This proves her innocence, Nev. Killing Torres, stabbing Minister Kingsley, someone made her do those things. She needs help. And you _love her_."

He shook his head, unable to look Susan in the eye.

"You do, I know you do," she continued. "You have for years."

"No," he told her firmly. "No."

"I don't need a superpower to tell you're lying, Nev. C'mon," Susan's voice sounded clogged up, as if she were about to cry. "Admit it. Admit it to me. I'm your best friend, admit that you love her.

He shook his head, he refused to choose between Posy and Pansy.

It made her angry. Susan stepped forward and pushed him right in the chest. "What if it were me, what if it were Malfoy not choosing me?"

"Don't talk to me about fucking Malfoy. I'll ring his skinny neck if he hurts you, Susie, you know that."

He grabbed her when she went to push him again. "Then what will you do to yourself if you don't go to Pansy? _Damn it_!"

Her swear shocked him. She _never_ swore. "If doing it for yourself isn't enough, then do it for Posy. Because she loves her sister, even if you don't. And when you do rescue her, you bring her right to me because she's going to need medical attention."

Then Susan marched back into the house, leaving him alone in the dark of his backyard.

He gazed up, looking at the nearly full moon.

Tomorrow.

He pulled his cell from his pocket and brought up the last message he had from Marcus. It was only one name. Julian Lockett.

The Unspeakable on duty when Pansy robbed the vault. Neville could only assume one thing. This man was his way to Vistain.

oOo

There was a slight screech as the stylus hit the record. She looped, exhaustion hitting her body. Her first sip of red wine. Fingers vibrating against the bridge of her cello. The swell of pride in a man who rarely showed emotion.

Candlelight flickered against the walls of her room and the young wolf assigned to her began stripping off torn and dirty leathers. She had downcast brown eyes, set a little too far apart, that reminded her of the person she wasn't allowed to think about. Hesitant hands revealed her nervousness.

Pansy understood.

She'd been young once after all.

She put the woman at no older than 18, and Pansy at 18 had been soft and shy too. She very much doubted she would have survived the Vistain Estate at that age. Good thing she wasn't 18 anymore. The flimsy strap of the thing Ellie called a shirt caught around her elbow, yanking her arm and pulling on the shoulder she dislocated in the pit.

She set it earlier, but it still hurt like a bitch.

"I'm sorry miss," the young wolf trembled, righting her mistake and taking away the torn leather.

Poor thing was terrified of Pansy. "You don't have to help me if you would rather not."

"No, I-he ordered me to help," she informed in a small voice.

"His exact words?"

"I-yes. 'Help Ms. Parkinson and ready her bath' he said."

"Help me then, by readying my bath," Pansy gestured to the open doorway that led to the large bathing room. The ginormous claw-foot soaking tub wouldn't fill itself. And she was 31 years of age, more than capable of undressing her own self.

"Yes, miss," she scurried away. It should have made Pansy feel guilty for playing on the fear of someone so young. Probably a Muggle, one turned wolf to fuel Vistain's army. But it gave Pansy a shred of hope to know this werewolf was just as scared of her as she was of Vistain.

The sound of water filling the tub overtook the Suite of Piano and Cello and shoved long forgotten memories back into the void of her mind. They had no place here anyways. She hadn't touched a cello in a decade.

The bath was far too hot and the water stung her cuts but nothing quite hurt like the knowledge of what was to come. Her plan had been, not simple, but straightforward. She fought in the pit to stay alive and make Ellie a lot scarier to the other wolves. It made her necessary. Necessary meant alive. She convinced him she needed to be stronger to keep fighting in the pit but not as a wolf, because it was more impressive for a little human to defeat wolves than another wolf, which brought her to the potions. She convinced him they didn't work as well as they had for Longbottom, and therefore she wasn't as strong as Vistain.

All bringing her one step closer to getting the hell away from him.

But the universe thought her act too good because she managed to convince him she was his mate. If he completed the mating, she would never be able to hurt him. Because wolfmates couldn't hurt one another. A physical impossibility. She wouldn't be able to bash his head in for chaining her up and putting a damn collar on her. For using her as a boogeyman and turning her into the assassin she didn't want to be.

Tonight was the night before the Full Moon. It might be too much to hope he would be interested in mate games, delaying the bond until it became irresistible. Sure, he wouldn't be able to hurt her anymore. But he'd proven he excelled at causing pain without doing the horrid act himself. Pansy found herself sure he would take too much pleasure in having a permanent leash on her.

Mates.

What a joke.

She rose from the bath and looped. Yellow dahlias, the scent of resin, faery lights strung through a garden as her Papa laughed and David Popper played. It was sort of like the longest 'my life flashed before my very eyes!' moment right before death. Her mind splintering more and more. One day, the final break would be permanent.

The young one handed her a towel to dry off. Pansy glared at her. She didn't wanted her around when Vistain showed up. "Leave."

She rushed off, head down.

She didn't bother getting dressed again, remembering Marcus's words. _She's as ugly on the outside as she is on the inside_. Ellie didn't care for the silks and lace a woman might wear to entice her man. But her scars? They would do just fine. What she didn't expect, when he walked through her door looking merry and rowdy as only a wolf could the night before the Full Moon, was for him to bring her mother with him.

She hadn't been seen in the light for months. Her mother's hair hung in limp, dirty strands, her frame clinging to bones from lack of nourishment. Her jaw stuck out sharply on her face but Pearl's eyes were still sharp and piercing. They both looked at each other, trying to figure out why Ellie would bring them together.

It didn't make sense.

He couldn't control Pearl, not without Glim. The only faery collar he had he slapped on Pansy, who was both younger and a better fighter so he left Pearl to rot in the dungeon. Was he trying to embarrass Pansy? Fuck her in front of her own mother?

Pearl hadn't been a real mother to her for a long, long time and more, Ellie would know better than to think Pansy gave a damn about anyone else. She had to be there for another purpose.

He strung Pearl up like Christmas lights, a little skip in his step. She hated when he was in a good mood, people often died when Ellie felt cheerful. And her splintered mind couldn't decide if Pearl dying was something she wanted or not.

 _She's your mother, Pansy. Promise me you'll protect her._

Seeing the gaunt skin stretched over her petite frame, pale grey when it once been golden, made Pansy realize she broke a promise to her Papa. One she intended to break when she made it, but faced with the consequences of her lie brought up an unfamiliar string of regret.

Pearl abused and mistreated her. Killed Theo. Hurt Posy.

She looped. A green eyed man holding a cell phone. A gut wrenching scream from a man she thought unbreakable. A seething hatred for the woman who gave her birth.

The loop so intense she stumbled, catching Ellie's attention.

"Ooo," he grinned madly, his eyes already a deep amber. He'd given himself over to the wolf. Likely brought on by her scent. She heard the scent of a mate before the bond was permanently sealed was irresistible, a medley of the person's favorite things. "You're upset? I didn't think you heartbroken for your dear mother. Remember? She sent David after you. Killed your lover."

Pearl watched her curiously, strangely silent for once.

"Lovers _are_ for killing," Pansy said quietly, staring straight at Ellie.

He showed her his teeth, her threat egging him on. "What about mates, my pet? What are they for?"

Surprise lit Pearl's face when Ellie sauntered over to Pansy, all manic energy and sexual desire. He grabbed Pansy's shoulders, burying his nose into her neck.

Eyes still trained on Pearl, she said, "I guess we're about to find out, _lover_."

Ellie threw his head back and howled. It raised the little hairs on her neck.

She looped when he pushed her down on hands and knees. A finger circling around the rim of a glass. Tony putting her on her ass. Theo fading away for good. Locking up her villa for good. Golden dust falling into her eyes. All her life's failings. "Here's one to add," she said to Pearl, who didn't do her the disservice of looking horrified or sickened.

It was the one thing Pansy could count on from her mother, a strong stomach. Even held captive for months on end hadn't dampened that iron will of hers.

Pack magic filled her when Vistain did. She didn't have to wait long before teeth sank into her shoulder. A simple bite was all it took but Ellie ravished her shoulder, tearing out chunks and ripping into her skin. It should have hurt but the mating made it feel out of this world. Like all the aches and pains of life, all the cracks in her mind were being filled in and smoothed over.

Mates. She would never be able to hurt Ellis Vistain.

"Don't pout dear," Pearl said. "It'll put lines on your face."

Pansy smiled. She couldn't remember the last time Pearl had encouraged her. She wouldn't pout.

She would get even.

oOo

He battled with himself on whether or not to tell Posy goodbye. The night wore on, and with it his sense of dread increased tenfold until he realized what a hypocrite he was. Pansy left him to wake up alone, drugged him to give her a head start going after Pearl. He still remembered the sting of betrayal. He didn't want Posy to feel the same. Especially after her words last night.

 _I just wanted to say, to tell you, I love you a lot._

He steeled himself and woke her up with a gentle nudge. "Posy."

Grumbling, she sat up, eyes wild in the dark and hair messed up from a night of tossing and turning. He'd seen the same thing all the previous nights before the Full Moon. This time however, she took one look at him and scooted in for a hug, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I've thought of a loophole," she whispered sleepily in his ear.

"Yeah? I'm all ears."

"You promise you won't get hurt and promise you'll come home with my sister and then we both know everything will be a-okay."

"I can't promise that one, Po."

"Yes, you can. You always keep your promises, so promise me you'll come home safe, with my sister, and alive and I'll know that's exactly what you'll do. Just promise it."

"If you promise not to leave this house for any reason," he warned in a low voice. He wanted to scare her but knew it fell flat. He tried again. "I mean it, not for any damn reason do you leave this house."

"Okay," she sniffed, voice cracking.

"It's not a good time to be a wolf and I don't know how long I'll be gone."

"I promise not to leave."

"I promise I'll come back," he said, throat growing tight. "With your sister."

She untangled from him and nodded once, as if deciding something. Hoping out of bed, she opened the top drawer of her dresser and dug to the very back. "Take this, you might need it."

A wicked blade curving out of a brown leather hilt.

"No," he shook his head. "Pansy would want you to have it."

"But I think she would want it back," Posy insisted, carefully putting the weapon in his hand. From the first moment of contact the scar on his shoulder came to life.

He took it as a positive sign.

When Ron came through the Floo with baby Rosie wrapped to his back, Neville stepped in. In his pocket he had his wand, Pansy's dagger, and _The Dolce Mela_. The combination of magical items hadn't done him much good at Parkinson Manor, but this time he had a promise to keep. Maybe it would make a difference this time.

He stepped into Bobbi and Connor's kitchen a moment later. Into a wild yelling match. Bobbi, Spencer, and Connor yelled at each other like a triangle of madness, shouting over one another until he wasn't sure how they could understand each other at all.

Before he could interrupt he felt a small poke to his side, looking down to find Lou. "Hello."

"Lou," he nodded politely. He'd given the Mind Shard to Posy, finding himself unable to accept a gift from someone other than Pansy.

"Rough night?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"I've had better."

"I hate to be rude," she gestured towards his neck. "But you seem to be glowing."

He looked down and found his collar to be open just enough to reveal the edge of his scar. Which was glowing blue, like it had been since he first touched Pansy's dagger. He buttoned up his shirt quickly.

"Now I have a new theory," she gave a coy little smile.

"About?" he asked, not trusting that tone of voice. Something was telling him she was lying, but he couldn't discern it right away. His gift to spot a lie had never failed him before. It left him feeling at odds.

"About how you can do magic when most of us can't," her eyes went to his shoulder. "You have a bit of magic under your skin there."

"Don't we all have magic in us?"

"Ahh but someone put that bit there, didn't they?" she asked, eyes a little too interested. Perhaps because she studied ancient magic? He couldn't wrap his head around Lou. And he didn't want to answer her either, finding it too personal a subject to discuss with someone he didn't know that well. Maybe Posy was in the right here. Lou seemed to be interested, romantically, despite saying once that she wasn't.

Listening to Bobbi yell gave him some insight to the night. "Your sister died in the attack?" he asked Lou, suddenly heartbroken for Bobbi.

"Charlie," Lou nodded, eyes never leaving his shoulder. "Throat torn out by a wolf in human form. Did you know that last night magic stopped working at Hogwarts?"

He didn't know which news was more disturbing.

She continued, "Academy of Immortals and Beauxbatons too. Both of them were built on a well of magic much like Hogwarts."

He started when he heard her mention the Academy. It wasn't a school for children and not many people knew of its existence. "What's your theory on how to get magic back then?"

"I read once that every hundred millennia or so, the world goes through a period of change. Magic leaves, magic comes back. Perhaps we are going through that change now."

Maybe. Except this time there had been a bit of interference. Glim. Explosion. Whirling vortex that sucked magic up into a giant blue cone before disappearing for good.

Lou sighed, looking exhausted all the sudden. "I can see you're on a mission, I'll leave you to it."

She brushed by him as she left and Neville didn't know what to think. He'd been reeling all night. Learning that magic didn't work at _Hogwarts_ of all places made him feel oddly empty. Like he just lost a huge piece of his childhood he could never get back. But he didn't have time to think on that.

He was on a mission.

To find Julian Lockett and determine the reason Marcus Barton gave him that name. If he knew where Pansy was, Neville was heading straight there. Anyone who got in his way would be very sorry they did so. Except he couldn't punch his way through Bobbi, Spencer, and Connor, especially after finding out they lost a sister.

He turned to the fridge and found a marker, and wrote out 'TAKING A FEW DAYS OFF-GOT A LEAD' in big letters she couldn't miss across the door.

Then he left and made his way to Bre McDonald's, going into detective mode. It might take all day. But Bre would know how to contact Lonnie, they were sisters. And Lonnie would know where to find Lockett.

And then Neville would do whatever it took to get to Pansy, because he made a promise. One he absolutely could not break. Even if that meant leaving a trail of bodies behind him.

He was done being the good guy.

* * *

Sorry for the long wait! I've banged out 30k words of a new fic. Maybe be on the look out for a new Neville/Pansy. ^_^ On the other hand, I'm seeing maybe another 10-12 chapters of this fic. Then it will done *for real*. No Part 3 for this word monster. (But there is a little spin off in the works with Posy, no spoilers!)


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N:** This chapter contains violence, blood, death, and one very hostile Auror. Please continue at your own risk. Hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. The next three chapters are nonstop action packed violence and insanity. *evil grin*

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty**

(The devolution of Pansy Parkinson—and where the hell are her clothes?)

The sisters were happy to help. Lonnie went as far as to take him directly to Julian Lockett's street. She would have taken him all the way to the front door, shoulders back and head held high, if he hadn't stopped her.

"Don't get any more involved," he warned, fearing for her safety. "Go straight home, keep your head down."

And when it looked as if she might fall into one of her rants again he held up a hand. "Lonnie, thank you for your help. Go home," he repeated more firmly. "I mean it, don't get caught up in trouble for helping me out."

Lonnie paused with her mouth wide open, on the verge of speaking. "Fine," she conceded. "But Julian's a good guy. Just wanted you to know that."

Neville watched her turn and disappear down the way they came, a quiet neighborhood caught in the middle of a sweltering summer afternoon. He wanted to storm up the porch stairs of the duplex Lonnie had pointed out and kick the door in, but weary voice in the back of his mind said that would be a mistake. Punching his way through wasn't the answer despite his urgency. Despite his willingness.

On the chance someone was watching the house, Neville pulled out a plain gray woolen hat, pulling it down over his ears, and zipped up his jacket despite the heat. Then he strolled down the sidewalk like he wasn't a desperate man with an impossible task before turning up the pathway to Lockett's house.

He didn't like violence.

His entire career was a testament to his dislike of people who used it to get their way at the expense of others. But as he knocked on the front door with controlled, even movements, Neville knew he was prepared to do whatever it took to get any and all information out of Lockett. Even if it meant becoming the thing he hated.

But it wasn't Julian who answered the door, who frantically gestured for him to come inside before slamming the door behind him in a rush. The woman was tall, with long, tangled brown hair and sunken eyes that peered at him wearily. The man behind her, he assumed Lockett, had short black hair and wolf amber eyes that purposefully didn't look in his direction. But the both of them trembled under Neville's gaze once the door was firmly closed. Petrified beyond any reason Neville could discern.

"Honey," Lockett started, looking at the woman. Her hair golden brown. She looked like a 'Honey' though she looked like she needed sleep as badly as Neville did. Lockett placed a hand on her shoulder and led her from the foyer. "You remember what I said about my alpha?"

"Yes," the woman looked to Neville again, catching his gaze. He hadn't a single doubt the woman was desperate for his attention. "You cannot disobey a direct order from him. He told you not to speak to any police or law enforcement."

"That's right, I told you that earlier," Lockett said overtly, his tone clear as he pronounced every word.

Into a small sitting room they went, where the couple sat down facing each other. Acting as if Neville wasn't there at all. He caught on right way. Lockett was ordered not to speak to someone like Neville. But he could still talk to his wife, if the ring on her finger was any indication. He could _communicate._

"You also said something about your friend," Honey continued anxiously. "What is his name? Marcus?"

"Yes, yes yes. My old friend Markey, I went to school with? You know he went and surrendered to Vistain few days back."

"No?" Honey shook her head in a dramatic way. "That old flame of his killed Mark's whole family, I heard? She's working for Ellis right?"

"That's right, but not by choice," Lockett tapped his cheek with two fingers. "Vistain is making her do these things. He keeps her locked up at that mansion of his."

"That _mansion_ ," Honey emphasized, making sure Neville followed along. "Where is that again, it's a big place right? Plenty of land?"

"Oh, it's on a ton of land, lots of room for us wolves to run through, up around North Bethany Woods. This close to the moon, it's crawling with wolves loyal to Vistain and his family. But if someone wanted to get up there, they might want to visit the southern park entrance in that area as soon as they can, right?"

"Right," Honey nodded frantically at Neville. "And maybe they will remember my husband was only doing what his alpha told him to do?"

"Maybe," Julian continued, practically trembling with fear. "Maybe they will figure out I was just trying to help ."

They were _terrified_ , yet helping him. Be it out of loyalty to Marcus or fear of Vistain, they were helping Neville. He wanted to tell them to keep their heads down like he did Lonnie, tell them to be safe. But as wolf, stuck in this country and a Full Moon rising in mere hours, there simply was no safe place for them to be. Instead, he nodded and left without another word. North Bethany Woods was a three hour drive normally.

But the sense of dread that kept him up all night told him he didn't have time to waste driving. It said he had to get to Pansy before the Moon rose fully. Hours. He had hours and he didn't know why he was so sure of it but he was. The certainty had him pulling out his wand, preparing to Apparate even though had hadn't done it in ages.

Not since the _Adelaide._

But no swell of cool magic filled him, only that empty feeling he experienced earlier when he found out magic stopped working at Hogwarts. He patted his jacket pocket, felt the lump of the diamond there and felt his heart thump in panic. That wasn't _The Dolce Mela._

He brought out the small, milky white stone from his inside pocket and resisted the urge to throw it as hard as he possibly could. Another mind shard—nearly identical to the first one she gave him. Lou _pick pocketed him!?_ Nearly a year he had kept that damn diamond safe for Pansy and he _lost it_?

What the hell was Lou up to? Why?

"Fucking _hell._ "

Now he had a decision to make. Go after Lou and get the diamond back? Or listen to his gut as it screamed at him to go to Pansy right away? He couldn't do both but the decision was easy to make. He made a promise to Posy.

He tore ass after his car.

oOo

Laying on the floor, naked, shoulder bloody, mind fragmenting, in front of her mother who was chained up, should have been embarrassing but Pansy found comfort in being with someone she knew. Everyone at Vistain's Estate was an unknown. She couldn't get to know them without Ellie finding out. Couldn't make connections. Nearly all of them had been Muggles before Vistain and his mutts hunted them down and turned them against their will.

She worked Solo her entire life, but she'd never been alone. Thanks to Vistain, she realized that now. Lesson learned. She got it! Fine… she'd have to get herself out of this... mess... where was she again? Mate. She had a _mate._

Her mother had never been a friend, always a foe, but at least Pansy knew her. Could predict her actions. Hours had passed since Ellis ran off, hyped up on energy and practically glowing from the mating, sprouting promises of his return. Happily ordering her to stay put and get some rest.

After all, tomorrow was the Full Moon. Or was it later today? Instead of a revel like they used to do, the wolves would pile in for the fights. Going up against each other, taking bets, getting rowdy. And see if any one of them could defeat Pansy. Gladiator style.

Another lesson learned.

She could have stayed in Italy. She probably would have died, but she would have gone out as herself.

Loop-da-loop.

The skin of her neck, rubbed raw from the collar, had become itchy and irritated. When she looped, she stayed gone longer. She missed her black jeans. Weird how she latched on to something so material and unimportant, but they way they fit over her hips and tucked into her boots had always been _juuuuust_ right—as Posy would have said.

In only a few days he'll get back to his usual calm and collected demeanor, which was generally far more scary than when the wolf was riding him. Ellis that is, she reminded herself, nearly forgetting about her mate. How could that happen? Oh right—she's crazy. The moon made him act like an entitled teenager, far too much power at his fingertips and too much sexual drive to think straight.

Not that she could think straight these days. Maybe she shouldn't be throwing stones.

She folded her arms under her head and rested, as ordered, the floor much more comfortable than the damp dungeon. She took a deep breath, focusing on the steady movement of air filling her lungs. But the collar felt tighter than ever, digging into her neck with every breath. Eventually she looked up. Remembering her Mother.

Murderer. Oh—no stone throwing. _She was a murderer too._ Good company then!

Banter was comfortable too. Familiar. She laughed. "Enjoy the show, mama?"

"I'd rather be back in the dungeon," Pearl said… with a frown?

Impossible.

Surely Pansy had imagined that bit. After all, she was coocoo. The collar driving her insane with every passing moment and never, never ever, would she catch Pearl Parkinson frowning.

"Yeah," Pansy hummed. She could talk to a hallucination, why not? "Me too."

"It wasn't rape," Pearl told her in a tone. As if she were explaining something to a child.

"Nope," Pansy agreed. It felt amazing being chewed on by Vistain. Physically anyways. The pack magic made every movement exquisite. Made every breath send her flying. But more, she'd been willing. Because despite everything, she still had a shred of hope that she could get out of this. She just had to keep on playing the game and Vistain wasn't interested in that kind of pain. Even he couldn't hurt his mate that way.

You didn't have to love someone to fuck them.

He enjoyed it too. The fucking bit.

Did that make him better than Pearl? Or worse. Did it matter? Probably not. Damn she missed those jeans.

"Why did he want me to watch?" Pearl asked, breaking through her shattered thoughts.

"I dunno," Pansy hummed again, rolling over onto her back. She stretched out her legs, tight from the physical fighting she engaged in nearly every night these days. She didn't get enough food or water to really fuel the amount of energy she burned and her body was letting her know it.

"He hates you, maybe he thought it would bother you to see your daughter being fucked from behind."

A look that said _yeah right._

"Maybe he thought you would kill me for him," Pearl suggested.

"I can't," Pansy admitted. "He ordered me not to the day he put the collar on."

"Oh?" Pearl's eyebrow went up. It was like looking in the mirror sometimes. A blonde mirror.

"The three nights before the Full Moon he acts like a spoiled kid who can't decide which toy he wants to break," she finally managed to sit up. "Maybe tomorrow night will be your turn, mama."

"No," Pearl shook her head. "I'm not his mate."

Mate. That's right. It just happened but she already forgotten, her mind somewhere else. Vistain was the missing piece of her soul. That shred of hope disappeared in a flash. How black and rotten was her soul if a man like Ellis Vistain was her mate? She couldn't hurt him. He couldn't hurt her. But he would do his best to work around it. He could still throw her in the pit where others could hurt her.

Tomorrow there would be a pit fight right before the Moon. She'd have to get some rest before then. It took a lot of effort to roll up to her feet. But she stood in front of Pearl a second later. Her chains were iron, secured to the wall by giant eye bolts. "He ordered me never to kill you. I could still hurt you though," Pansy said conversationally. "He never ordered me not to hurt you."

To back up her words she summoned her sword to her. It was born of madness and desperation that sword. Silver hilt that fit her hand perfectly, weightless and yet perfectly balanced. Blades of ice because her power always manifested in cold. Two pronged to cause even more damage. It extended from her palm effortlessly. "Did you know I could do this now, mama?"

Pearl actually looked impressed, if exhausted.

Pansy found herself whistling. Mimicking the airy sound the sword made when it slashed through the air, a sound she'd become intimately familiar with. She almost missed when Pearl said, "This family has always been good at magic that didn't come from a wand, _bébé._ "

"A compliment?" Pansy asked, shocked.

"Fact. Your great-grandmother could summon her wand to her hand in an instant, even across great distances. My mother could sing life into plants that had wilted or died."

"And you?" Pansy couldn't help wondering. She never knew of these talents in her family. "What can you do?"

"Lie," Pearl shrugged in her chains, rankling sadly. "I could always lie and no one could tell."

"Subtle gifts," Pansy laughed, but it was hollow through and through. "And then there's me."

There was nothing subtle about her sword.

This might have been the most honest conversation she ever had with Pearl as an adult and the sheer madness of it had her looping. Pansy as a small child. Her mama dancing in the garden with Papa. Presenting her with bows and ribbons in a rainbow of colors. The taste of the Richart's Gourmet Chocolates he used to sneak her.

It reminded her of a time when she loved her parents with an innocence untainted by life. "I'm not going to hurt you," she started, thinking of Papa.

"Because you've always been tenderhearted," Pearl said, without any of the usual malice. "You're human."

"Heart's gone by now, if that gives you any hope for my future."

"You aren't listening, _bébé,_ " Pearl said, sounding more and more like a mother by the second. Slipping into her native tongue. "You're _human._ "

"Is that a failing somehow? You think I should have let him turn me? I'd be stronger as wolf but he'd have even more control over me…" He already had too much.

"No," she shook her head, limp hair waving in her face. "You've done a great job all these months, not letting him turn you, convincing him you needed those strength enhancing potions. Better than I could have done. But I know you, _bébé_. You'll let this mating keep you from doing what you need to do, which is to remember…"

Pansy waited, halfway convinced this was a full blown hallucination. Pearl hung from iron chains giving her a pep talk—even she couldn't have imagined that. "Remember that you are _human_ , humans don't have mates."

The blood dripping from her shoulder said otherwise. Wolves could take human mates, she'd seen it before. She just experienced it for herself. But her mind looped. Hard.

It sucked her into the memory with a disorienting snap.

She stood in an office. A baby Fern bounced in a tank of dirty water and endless stacks of boxes and chairs lined the walls. Pansy watched herself stand up, cracking her neck. Hair long and braided to the back of her head, leather jumpsuit tight on her body. Her old potion sash across her chest.

It was strange to be watching herself. It wasn't that long ago but this Pansy was younger than her by ages. No scars marred her face and a cocky grin kept her smiling. At the door Harry stood, looking into the room. Pissed off and concerned. And on the floor, the man she wasn't supposed to think about lay passed out. Neville Longbottom.

Auror. Righteous pain in the ass. Strongest man around, in both heart and body.

She could see him more clearly than anything else. Golden dust in his eyes, blood coming from his cut rib and hand. Cuts she caused. But as she watched, those eyes blinked open. He groaned, obviously in pain, and reminded her that no one knew her as well as Neville Longbottom did. His words rang clear: _She lives in chaos._

"Pansalina," Pearl's voice snapped her out of the loop as her head began to throb.

Human, Pansy thought, blessedly human. She was Vistain's mate, but that didn't mean Vistain was _her_ mate. Maybe… Chaos meant bending the rules. Manipulating them to suit her needs.

"Can I hurt him?" she asked, her body rejecting the idea immediately. But she'd put herself through worse. "I can hurt him."

"I don't know," Pearl smiled slowly. "Wouldn't you like to find out?"

Pansy dismissed her sword and went to reach up to disassemble the eyebolts. Paused. "You're just trying to manipulate me into freeing you. But I'm not even mad."

"No," Pearl shook her head. "I find I'm extremely annoyed at him for what he's done to a member of my family. Even you."

"We haven't been family in a long time, mama," Pansy reached up and pulled the eyebolts out of the wall. It took little strength. But strength she had in spades.

Pearl fell into a heap, no longer supported by the chains. Pansy reached down and broke the manacles around her wrists with little effort, tossing the iron to the side. And unsure of what else to say.

She helped the woman who murdered Theo and imprisoned Posy into the bath, taking the sponge and scrubbing her back as she trembled under the water. Running soap through her hair until the strands were shiny. Drying her off afterwards with the fluffy white towel.

In return, Pearl searched through the dresser and found two shirts, identical blue button ups that would dwarf the both of them. Buttoning up Pansy's without a word as Pansy sat on the edge of the bed. Waiting for the shoe to drop. Waiting for a knife to the throat. Still not sure why Vistain brought Pearl to her. Not sure of reality.

"I would have kicked Rowe's ass if Potter hadn't beaten me to it," Pansy said as she laid down, eyes closing.

She felt motherly fingers brush through the short strands of her hair, Pearl soothing her. "That was the point. We should have worked together. We could have been unstoppable."

"Should have waited for him," Pansy mumbled, drifting off to sleep. If Pearl wanted to kill her she could have at it. She was far too exhausted to fight. Years and years she spent trying to find control over her life. She sacrificed it all. It was worth it, watching her sister disappear with Marcus and Neville made it worth it. But...

Pansy didn't think she would survive the next Moon.

She woke up a few hours later to Ellie's harsh hands, pulling her up. Demanding she wake up in the same tone of voice he used on his wolves.

"Up, up my pet. My mate," he nuzzled into her neck like a first time lover. "You smell soo _good._ "

She went from horizontal to in his lap in a second, his hands grabbing at her desperately. Pearl nowhere to be found. Sleep hadn't made reality any less fuzzy.

"Ellie," she breathed out a moment before his mouth crashed into hers. She wished it didn't feel so good. Wished she could hate him for touching her, but she liked it rough. Liked men who were sure of themselves. And what did Ellis Vistain have to worry about? He was as sure as sure.

They were mates. He could kill her and she would probably orgasm as she took her last breath. She closed her eyes and slipped into sexual oblivion, doing her best to feed Ellie's appetite. Finding him just as willing to feed hers.

Until he rolled away, satisfied and sweaty. "The Ministry is in absolute _shambles_ ," he said like Christmas had come early. "I'm going to send you out more. You do good work, Pansalina."

"Don't you forget it," she warned. "I hate that name."

"Your mother gave you that name," he said in such a way. As if her opinion inconvenienced him.

"Well, I hate her too."

"Not tonight," he continued, deciding to ignore her. "I need you to fight tonight. My Dark Lady. My Blackguard."

Ellie rolled over towards her, aligning their bodies and whispering ridiculous nicknames into her ear. Warmth spreading where she wanted to be cold. "Can you do that for me? Mate?"

"I can do anything for you," she said. "My mate."

Maybe she could do anything _to_ him.

oOo

If Posy had been in the car with him, she would have screamed for dear life. The first hour. Eventually she would transition to just plain making fun of his crazy driving. Normally he enjoyed it, but sitting in the car for hours with nothing to do but drive as quickly as he could, all while this drum beat in the back of his head made it less fun.

 _Hur-ry. Hur-ry. Hur-ry._

But he made it to the southernmost park entrance just before the sun started to set, hours after he left. Hours he could have had to get to Pansy if he had been paying any attention whatsoever. His rage at Lou Fernard turned hostile the more time he spent driving until his knuckles turned white against the steering wheel and he blew right past Marcus Barton.

Neville braked so hard the car came to a screeching halt.

It didn't phase Barton.

The wolf slid into the passenger seat and shut the door with manic energy, though his eyes looked human. He tossed a black duffle bag into the back seat and it gave Neville a chance to really get a good look. He seemed to have lost a significant amount of weight since the last time Neville saw him, his clothes hanging off sharp bones and that laughing smile nowhere in sight.

"I expected you a lot sooner."

"What the hell is going on?" Neville asked, driving when Marcus instructed him to take a back road he would have missed.

"What's going on?" Marcus hummed while drumming his fingers against his thighs as they drove through thicker and darker woods. "Did you know that Pansy and I used to date?"

Neville wondered why it was 'Pansy' and not 'Pan-Pan' and whether or not that was a bad sign Marcus had switched it up. "I figured," he answered when it became obvious the wolf was waiting for an answer.

"That bother you?"

The question came out of nowhere. His immediate response was yes, hell yes, but he knew it shouldn't have affected him at all. He slept with Pansy all of two times but they had spent their whole lives hating each other and beating one another up—physically and verbally. He was the idiot that went and fell in love with someone incapable of loving him back. It shouldn't bother him that she dated other men.

"No," he said finally. And he made sure he meant it. "Why would it?"

"Maybe this won't work," Marcus mused, looking out the window. "I need someone who is going to go above and beyond for Pansy tonight."

"Why don't you?" he asked, feeling annoyed with Marcus's obvious attempt at manipulation. "Your beloved 'Pan-Pan'? You used to date, and that's more than I can say."

"There's a lot of great things about being a wolf," he started, still not looking directly at Neville. "But when a bigger, stronger wolf puts you in a position where you're forced to yield, it's hard to defy that wolf ever again."

"Dominance."

"That's right, that's right," Marcus said quickly. "Slow down, take a left."

He did as directed, trying to watch out for uneven dirt and gnarled roots that marked the edge of the road they had been driving on. The road he turned on seemed even smaller and more narrow, the trees so thick he could barely make out the fading afternoon sunlight. But there were fresh tire tracks for Neville to follow.

"When Vistain took Pansy, it was out of spite. Pansy's mummy had been naughty and Vistain wanted to retaliate. What he didn't realize is exactly how skilled she was."

"Was?" Neville asked, attempting to keep his voice even.

A sneer that was all wolf. "Don't worry, the little bitch is still alive. I know now she didn't act alone. She was directed to murder my father. And Neva. And most of the Fawley's for that matter. She single-handedly wiped out most of the founding families over the course of a few nights."

"Impossible," Neville mumbled. "We would've heard about it."

"Would you though? You were off duty, Mr. Longbottom," Marcus mocked. "Pull over here."

Neville parked in a small clearing that was just big enough for his 4-door and shut the car off. "I was still in the loop. I would have heard."

"I consider myself both, wizard and wolf. But most magical folk just don't give a shit about wolves these days. And true to form, as seen in the past, when a problem became too much of a problem, they buried their noses in the sand and waited for it to blow over. It might have," Marcus finally looked at him.

The brown of his eyes lightened to amber and in the distance, far in the distance, he could hear the cheers and laughing of a huge crowd. "It might have blown over after Pansy blew up Pearl's Glim. Supply would have dwindled to nothing overnight and with magic gone there would be no way to make more."

Neville connected the dots. "But Vistain had Pansy?"

"That's right. Stronger than a wolf, faster than lightning, trained at the Academy? He can control her even better than one of his own wolves, even better than Pearl's Glim. Pure luck."

Because of the collar.

"Would you have done the same?" Neville asked, seeing the desperation in Marcus's eyes.

"She did kill Sean," Marcus hummed again and he wondered if the wolf picked up the habit from Pansy. She loved to hum when considering what to say. "It would have been fitting. Yeah, yeah I would have."

Neville heard the lie immediately.

Marcus turned and retrieved the bag he'd brought, shoving it into Neville's lap. Then he got out of the car. "We don't have much time, the fight is about to start. Put these on."

The door shut before Neville could, again, ask 'What the hell?' But that drum still beat.

 _Hur-ry!_

He unzipped the bag and found slightly dirty clothes. All black. And likely smelling of a wolf. "Fuck this shit," he got out of the car and started undressing. "Is this a joke, or is this actually necessary?"

From the other side he heard a small chuckle that sounded more like Marcus than the serious tone he'd been using. "You kinda sound like her, you know?" Marcus continued laughing. "And yes, it's necessary. Need to draw as little attention to you as possible. From what I've gathered, Vistain is on a huge power trip right now. With the Moon tonight he's going to be jumping in his skin. And he's gunning for me. Moon will be full right after the fight. Then he's going turn the pack on me in hunt."

"Hunt? Seriously?"

"Save your pity, you need to focus. I'm going to lead them north. More woods out that way, more area to cover. When we turn, you need to do your thing, bust Pansy out, and come back to your car. If you can't get to your car, head west. There's a road about 20 miles that way."

Marcus pointed west.

"Why are you doing this? Sounds like suicide," Neville couldn't help but ask as he pushed his legs into too tight black jeans. They just fit over his hips. He shoved his feet back into his boots. A long sleeved black turtleneck came on next before he slipped back into his jacket, checking his pockets out of habit. Wand, keys, wallet, the dagger, and that fucking Mind Shard.

More, he had something else. Something he slipped into his pocket right before he left the house. He was wearing all black and outfitted to the nines. It seemed he was the thief now.

Also in the bag he found another knit hat, this one in black. "There. Do I still smell like a human?"

Marcus came around the car and took a few sniffs. "No… but you don't smell quite wolf yet either."

He bent down, grabbing a handful of leaves and dirt from the forest floor before rubbing the debris right on Neville's face. Then he crushed it up and smothered it into his hair. It felt weirdly personal. "Now put your hat on. And yes, I might well be committing suicide tonight."

Neville followed Marcus through the woods, both of them heading towards the rambunctious crowd. The cheers and shouts grew louder the longer they walked.

"Tell me why."

"Tell me you're the man for this job," Marcus countered.

"You think Pansy needs a champion? How about I promised her sister I would bring the both of us home, safe and sound?"

Marcus snorted, loudly. "The promise of a wizard? It means nothing. And what does Posy mean to you?"

"She's my daughter," Neville snapped, stunning the both of them in silence. It was the first time he'd called her that. Daughter. She didn't come from him, he didn't raise her. But he would stand and die on that hill, doing anything and everything for that girl. "You wolves like to say you're all about family. You tell me, does that mean anything to you?"

"Daughter…" Marcus shook his head in amazement. "You got it bad, Mr. Longbottom. Maybe you are the right guy for our Pansy. She told me years ago never to trust her mother. It didn't matter how sweet Pearl sounded or what she promised, Pansy warned me that Pearl was a clear, crystalline lake that promised to quench the harshest of thirsts but to be wary because the water was poison. I didn't listen. Pansy left me in shambles. Off to a new country, some brand new adventure, and Sean and I decided to trust when Pearl said she could sell our Glim. Now, Emily's dead. Sean's dead. My father is dead. What do I have? Nothing."

Neville wanted to offer condolences, knowing first hand what losing your only family felt like. But Marcus wouldn't want it, especially from someone who was practically a stranger.

Instead he said, "Pearl got the best of us all."

He didn't see an end to the nightmares Pearl caused him, as if he didn't have enough trouble getting to sleep at night. Neville didn't want to imagine the demons that haunted Marcus. Though he didn't have trouble picturing the story he laid out. Falling in love with an unattainable Pansy Parkinson as she breezed through town, causing havoc, leaving behind a trail of destruction in her wake.

They continued walking long after the conversation ended, which worked for him. He needed to keep track of where the hell his car was for when things inevitably went south and he needed to run. They walked until Neville spotted a large house poking out between the trees. Behind its tall, tiled roofs and chimneys the sky turned vivid pink and orange, the day rapidly coming to an end. But it wasn't to the house they went.

Marcus led him through more woods, a small foot trail that led to a large structure that looked all the world a massive barn. Dark gray wood, weathered from years of rain and large doors opened to a boisterous crowd. And wolves. Hundreds of them. They rolled around with each other. Fighting, laughing, cheering. Without the stench of Glim around, it looked like a huge house party almost. Except way more rowdy. Most wore loose shirts and sweats, ready to tear off once the Moon began its phase.

"Try to blend in, ya?" Marcus suggested as people greeted him with open affection. Punching his shoulder, running fingers through his hair, cupping his cheeks. A few of the females even kissed him on the lips.

And at the smell of his own clothes, they did the same to Neville. Grabby fingers clutched at his clothes, ran up under his shirt, dug into his abs greedily. Women draped over his shoulder, asking if he wanted to run with them tonight. "Who's your friend, Markey?" they asked.

"New recruit, ladies, you can have a bite of him later," he winked, sounding jovial and festive despite his earlier gloom. A good actor.

Once inside the barn, which wasn't really a barn at all, Marcus led him through more wolves to a small stairway up. In the center was a flat pit. He recognized it immediately for what it was. An arena. Though a small one. Just big enough for the jarring crowd outside. "What the hell is this, Barton?"

"Shh," Marcus cautioned. "Follow me. Quietly."

"You told me to blend in," Neville reminded him snidely. There wasn't a quiet wolf in sight. No humans either.

But Marcus didn't comment on his snark this time, leading him through groups of wolves and into a small alcove with a balcony. Several such places could be seen all around the ring, facing into the pit. The bottom level was caged off. But the second and third floors were open to the room. "This balcony sits just under Vistain's preferred spot," he said, pointing above them. "As long as we speak quietly, he won't be able to hear us over the noise. But be very, very quiet."

Neville stepped to the edge of the balcony and looked down into the pit, where small groups of wolves crowded the arena floor, throwing punches and circling each other. But nothing too dangerous. They were warming up.

"Wolves weren't violent enough?" he muttered under his breath.

"Shh! This is how he controls the masses now," Marcus informed him. They watched as two men, two big wolves, entered the pit and a loud whistle cut off the rest of the fighting. Some soundless moment later, and they were at each other's throats. Fighting. No weapons. No gear. No protection. Just two people beating the shit out of each other.

The fight was quick, ending when the loser tapped out. People cheered and booed. Shouted out names of their favorites. "These guys," Marcus leaned against the railing and looked down. "They enter willingly, to make money, to prove their worth, whatever. But anyone who defies Vistain, his brother or his father, gets tossed into the Pit against the _Blackguard_."

He said the name with such hatred.

"Who?" Neville asked, but he knew.

The gate drew upwards and from the shadows emerged a woman. The woman from his dreams. Her dark hair cut close to her head, wearing a leather skirt that split up the sides all the way up to her hips, her top nothing more than a tight black bra that barely hid a small patch over each of her breasts.

She looked ridiculous, even for her usual attire, but at this distance he could pick out the new scars from the old. More scars than he count. They crisscrossed up her torso and across the stark muscles of her stomach.

She looked to be in even better shape than ever and Neville realized he hadn't gotten a good look at The Ministry because of her robes. And he'd been too preoccupied staring uselessly at her like a moron.

Strong, fluid muscles bunched as she walked to the center of the arena. The crowd had been ear splitting loud before. But when Pansy made it to the middle of the Pit, her sword growing from the palm of her hand in fantastic show, they went wild. They chanted _Blackguard, Blackguard, Blackguard_ over and over. The sword caught light as she moved. She handled it with lethal grace, twirling it in one hand slowly, for show.

When her right shoulder faced him, he caught the brutal scar there. So did everyone else.

The crowd turned into deafening thunder.

"Oh no," Marcus shook his head, eyes turning an even deeper shade of amber. "Oh no…"

"What does that mean?" Neville demanded, the booming in his head syncing up with the crowd. It looked like her entire upper arm had been chewed out, entire pieces of her arm missing.

"It means we're too late," Marcus shook his head in defeat, and for the first time that night, real emotion showed in his voice. "He fucking mated with her. I can't believe it."

Mated?!

The railing bent down with a harsh screech but the sound was drowned out when Pansy raised her sword towards the balcony above them. Towards Vistain. Marcus dragged him away from the railing with a surprising amount of strength—and Neville remembered he wasn't around humans right now. He was literally standing in the wolf's den.

"It's not too late," Neville argued, pushing Marcus away. The wolf tumbled over backwards and out into the hallway before he rushed back with a snarl, eyes flashing bright amber.

"Mates are for _life_ ," Marcus growled hotly, grabbing onto Neville to keep him from…

From what? Jumping down in the pit? If he could break the collar from her neck it would be a viable option. With Pansy on his side they could take these wolves. But what would guarantee she would even be on his side? He had his ace. But he had to wait for the best time to use it.

"It's too late," Marcus insisted.

It couldn't be. He made a promise. He made a fucking promise and he was going to keep it. "Tell me more. Tell me what I missed."

"Her kill count is in the hundreds, anyone that dares defy Vistain or his Guard get thrown into the pit to fight her. No one comes out alive. If you face her, it's to the death. No tapping out. She hasn't lost yet. The good news is Vistain keeps her healthy, for the most part. If they're mates… there's no separating them. Not now."

"She is not his goddamn mate," Neville found himself in a growling match with a wolf. Marcus came in quick, nose to nose. The Moon a sweet song bringing the wolf to the front. But Neville had strength on him for days, his power far greater than this average wolf. After only a few seconds, Marcus backed off with a swear.

"That bite on her shoulder says otherwise, Auror," Marcus spat into the pit before he continued the conversation as if nothing had happened.

"Don't bother trying to get her attention. See that? Around her neck? They call it a Faery Collar. She's worn it since last year, I suppose ever since we escaped. Her will is completely bent to suit the needs of Vistain, she does whatever he wants whenever he wants it. He keeps her fed so she can fight, then he takes her to bed and does whatever he wants to her."

He knew all that, but the railing Neville held onto groaned again, bending as his anger spiked. "How long have you known she was here?"

Fighting for her life as always, while he played house with her sister and dug around in his fucking garden. While he built a garage and bought a family car like some idiot. He'd been waiting for her to come back and she'd probably been waiting for him to come get her. He watched as a straggler from the earlier fighting approached Pansy, only to be slashed in two as the blade split him down the middle. Zero mercy, zero hesitation. She didn't smile, she didn't speak.

She wasn't playing.

He missed their banter more at that moment than ever before. Kill count… in the hundreds? He thought the attack on The Ministry had been bad. This… this was so much worse than he thought. And all around him people cheered like it was some high stakes Quidditch match.

"Doesn't matter. Here's the thing, Ellis and his brother have all but taken over the wolves. Now that I know about the collar, I'm pretty damn sure Vistain used her to take out my father and the Fawley's without their realizing he was the one behind it. Since she isn't a wolf, wolf law doesn't apply. Vistain simply absorbed our wolves and consolidated his power. Now he uses her to keep them in check, what he was using Pearl's Glim for."

"Tell me about the sword."

"I didn't see it. I only know what I heard."

"Which was?"

"It burst from her hand in a shower of ice crystals during a close fight. None of the fights have been close since."

The gate under them rose up, spitting out three people. Two guys and a woman. All of them were scared to bits and held onto each other for dear life. Beside him Marcus shook his head sadly. "The Burgesses, they refused to go on the raid to the Ministry."

"So he's having them executed?" Neville shook his head in disbelief. "How does he keep any men?"

"He doesn't. 7 billion Muggles on this planet, any one of them can be bitten. Hard to make a stand when you can be replaced in a second."

Damn it to hell. But he shouldn't have been surprised, he remembered the way Vistain had brushed off the death of Sarah Whittler without a care—his only concern that day at the Offices had been for David Rowe, the Glim dealer. Everyone else had been replaceable.

Neville felt sick as he watched Pansy march forward without an ounce of emotion on her face. Her sword cut through their necks, a bloody spurt accompanying a bone-chilling scream. One. Two. Three.

It was brutal to watch, his only comfort in that she didn't seem to take pleasure in her job as executioner. But worse was seeing the grayish bruises around her neck. They feathered out around the collar and made his heart hurt in ways he didn't know it could.

The opposite gate creaked open and a flood of men fell into the pit. Pansy's stance didn't change, her back now turned towards him. Battle ready, she held the sword despite the uneven odds. Then a voice rang out from above them. "My pet, put your weapon away. Let us see your true capabilities."

Without hesitation, the sword disappeared from sight. Pansy bunched her fists, her lip curling angrily up in Vistain's direction. He waited for a sassy comeback— _You're_ _about to have some capabilities in your face, Vistain._ But none came. No banter. Just violent madness and a frown he hated with a passion.

The enemies encircled her.

Marcus reached out to stop him from jumping down before Neville even realized he stepped forward. "Don't, she's built for this. This is what she does. She's fought this many before without a weapon. Just wait for the Moon, wait for the Moon, Longbottom. Then get her the hell outta here."

Pansy waited for the first move, which came a moment later when one wolf darted forward, breaking the circle, and swinging with his fists. Pansy moved like water. She dodged with ease and countered with her own move, reaching out and twisting the man's neck with precisely the right amount of strength, her eyes already looking for the next attacker.

Such a move would normally be dangerous when surrounded by so many, but Pansy wasn't just strong. She'd always been fast, too. The man fell into a heap and then the fight was on full blast, a swarm coming in at her all at once. They tried to crowd her into one side but she was too smart to fall for their maneuvering, flitting in and out between bodies. Every move she made on purpose, wasting no energy, getting hits in when she could. Like a dance. She knew what she was doing.

But there were twenty to her one. They got in a few hits even as she led them around the pit, her step faltering. Marcus continued to whisper patience in his ear. His voice growing rough with the effort to stay human. Another quarter hour. The fight would be over soon. 10 more minutes, he begged when the last of the first group fell down.

5 more minutes, when another wave came through the gates.

But Marcus didn't see the madness in Pansy's eyes. The reason for the drumming at the back of his head. His instinct and Susan's voice telling him the collar had been on for far too long, the damage it had done not visible to the naked eye. She looked good in the pit, fast and deadly, but Neville saw what no one else did. The Pansy he knew, the woman he loved, wasn't lost to madness. She wasn't insane.

She was confidence. Controlled chaos, an icy storm that held no mercy. That falter convinced him more than anything.

And then a wolf got a hit on her. She went down on a knee.

"Fucking hell," he whispered as he made his decision. He'd hesitated at The Ministry, he wouldn't this time. " _PARKINSON!"_

He just hoped it wasn't too late.

Somehow, his voice carried over all the noise of the crowd. She looked up and met his eyes, which went wide in surprise. The moment stretched, nothing but the drumming in the back of his head.

 _Hurry. Hurry. Hurry._

 _Blackguard._

Why did they call her such a foul word? She wasn't some dark being, dishonorable and disdained. She had her own sense of rules and laws woven into the mistrust she held so close to her heart and Neville loved her for it. He'd be damned if he let her die here tonight after everything they've been through.

Time caught up with a crash of noise crushing his ears. He threw Pansy's dagger straight in her direction. It gleamed like ice, spiraling through the air as it left a misty trail. Her hand came up, gracefully snatching the spinning hilt from the air. In the same movement, she swiped up and sliced open the throat of the nearest wolf, a wash of blood raining down on her and the ground. She stood and her breath fogged in front of her face, bloody ice crystals forming on her slick blade.

The sweat on her bare arms beaded with ice. The madness receded, if only a little, maybe just enough, before she began her dance again. And this time it was a bloody dance.

Neville, hanging over the balcony as Marcus groaned in frustration - "OH C'MON!" - looked up and met the hostile gaze of Vistain as he peered down from his own balcony. His face twisted into murderous rage, eyes so bright an amber they seemed to shine. "Kill him!" the wolf alpha shouted. "KILL THE AUROR!"

"You _dumbass!_ " Marcus shouted, half claws digging into Neville's shoulders. "You couldn't wait _5 more minutes!?"_

But Neville wasn't about to run. He shoved Barton away. "Get the fuck out of here!" he shouted over his shoulder, and he knew what to do.

He snatched the highly illegal Flash Bang from his pocket and jumped into the pit feet first. The moment he touched the ground all the wolves who'd been after Pansy obeyed their alpha and rushed for him instead. A horde of amber eyed men about to turn into beasts, and he was the intruder. He met Pansy's angry stare and shouted, "SHUT YOUR EYES!" as he pulled the pin and threw the grenade right at her feet.

 _BANG!_

She did as he commanded, squeezing her eyes shut but she didn't have time to cover her ears like Neville did. It still didn't block out the majority of the sound the damn thing made. Nor the screams that filled the entire arena. The wolves were no longer cheering and Pansy stumbled backwards into the wired cage, blood dripping from her ears. All around him several wolves were doing their own stumbling, some even falling over unconscious. The flash of sound too loud for their sensitive ears to handle. The flash blinding their vision.

But even better.

Above them Vistain shouted hostile orders, spit flying. "Pansy! Kill him! Kill the Auror!"

Orders Pansy couldn't hear.

Neville rushed across the arena floor, taking his cue from her earlier move and twisting the necks of any wolves that got in his way. Punching his way through the rest. It was far easier than he thought it would be, a fact that would make him sick later.

And Pansy still leaned against the cage, her hands over her ears looking as if she were trying to find her balance, a slight tremble in her movement. He rushed to her, pushing bodies and stumbling wolves out of his way. Most of them clutching at their ears in agony. Behind him Vistain howled his rage.

Neville didn't care. His goal the woman in front of him. He pinned her hands to the side and got in her face. She looked up at the balcony behind him and it pissed him the fuck off. "Don't look at him, look at me," he shouted.

A violent shiver.

"You _idiot_ ," she hissed. "There's only one rule here, Longbottom. Two people go in. One comes out," she looked at him with eyes of rage. He had never before seen her so angry in his life. Lips tight, chest heaving with the effort to keep her breathing steady. That tremble in her frame. He felt it as he pinned her.

"We don't have time for this," he growled. Their eyes connected as only they could do. It wasn't that the world melted away, that it was only them.

It was that none of it mattered. The arena, the wolves, the politics. Not his friends or his job. Nor their past. The world could be ending around them and it wouldn't matter. He smiled despite the dire situation. Their world _was_ ending. Magic was out even at the most magical of places and the Government had all but collapsed. And here he was, chasing after Pansy Parkinson. Like always.

If she wanted to be angry at him for coming to rescue her, fine. She could do it after they got the fuck out of dodge.

" _Don't hurt me._ " Because Pansy mad and scared always ended up with him bleeding and he didn't have enough time to deal with that.

He released her wrists, carefully watching her face for any hint of movement, ignoring the rustling and groaning of the wolves all around them. Then he wrapped his fingers around the collar and began to pull.

She seemed surprised, her shoulders tensing upwards. But then she sighed in relief, sagging into him, and he tried to ignore the rough texture of her skin where the collar had rubbed raw. Silver was a soft metal. Soft and malleable. But it held magic better than most other metals and who the hell knew what kind of magic imbued this collar. Despite the quiver in his arms, the strength he put into the pull, it didn't bend.

"You have no right to be pissed at me," he told her in a groan, pulling the collar with both hands. It barely budged. Annoyed, he felt around the sides to where the collar had chipped before. Susan had shown him the chunk of metal missing from the blasted thing and he found the cavity where it belonged. It should have been weaker there. He gave it all he had and tried to distract her at the same time. "I should be pissed at you."

She watched his lips with rapt interest, reading his words. She blinked up at him, a wealth of history flashing behind her big, indigo eyes. Reminding him of all the times they'd been like this, standing close while he resisted the urge to strangle her. All the times he chased her and she left him eating dirt. The collar groaned under pressure and his determination to get it off her neck increased tenfold. His muscles quivered, body shaking under the strain. He felt it give, a slight bow in the metal.

Her lips, plump from the scar that intersected them, opened softly. "Duck."

 _Duck?_

"Fuck," he rolled to the side and landed badly on his knees, dust rising up around him. He jumped up but Pansy had a hand on the throat of his attacker, her dagger slashing forward with deadly grace. It slid into the man's chest with little resistance before she pulled it free, the wolf slumping over dead. Then she looked up to the overhang, looking at Vistain. The expression on her face wasn't soft, but muted in a way Neville had never seen before. One that prompted Neville to action. He couldn't let Vistain get the chance to boss Pansy around.

She was far too susceptible to him.

"No!" he grabbed her arms and pulled her around before Vistain could take advantage. "Don't look at him!"

"Neville," she gasped when he yanked her too hard, dragging them both towards the nearest gate. "I can't kill him."

Forget killing him. How the hell were they supposed to get out? A few of the pack was still passed out from his Flash Bang, but not nearly enough. "Where does this go?"

She didn't answer him, because he'd blown out her ears. Fuck. Not hesitating, he raised his free hand and punched through the gate door so hard the entire barn shook. The wooden gate burst into a pile of splinters and he didn't wait around for them to settle before he continued dragging both of them into the dark hallway.

He made it all of two steps.

"No!" Pansy shouted from behind him. Then she tugged. _Hard._

They tumbled back into the arena, trying desperately to find their footing. "Damn it Parkinson!"

"Other way!" she shouted, wrapping a hand around his upper arm, dragging him across the arena. He felt light as a feather under her strength. She kept her eyes firmly on the ground, plowing through a crowd of wolves that had fallen into the pit. "That way dead ends into the dungeons."

Of course there were bloody dungeons.

She kicked a fallen wolf as they rushed by, knocking him out, but came to a screeching halt when Vistain dropped into the pit. Right in front of them. It signaled the entire building to quiet down, as much as wolves could anyways.

Neville skidded to a stop right behind Pansy, a hand coming to her back while Vistain held her from the front.

"Pansy-" the wolf grabbed her quick, big hands digging into her shoulders, before Neville could intervene. "I said _kill him-"_

Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Who?" Pansy asked sweetly. Sounding nothing like herself. "Come on, Mate. Who do you want me to kill? I'll kill anyone for you."

Vistain tensed up, attempting to form the words with his snarling lips, trembling before he threw his head back in a howl.

* * *

 _Oh no a cliffhanger why would the author do that to you?! Oh wait._ I'm the author. *evil laughing*


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